L^Wf| 

!*»•«••*»  OP 

.  MMMHDJ 


* 


TWELVE  GREAT  ARTISTS 


WELVE 
GREAT 
ARTISTS 


WILLIAM  HOWE  DOWNES 


•     LITTLE,  BROWN 
AND  COMPANY     -     SMVCCCC 


Copyright,  1900,  by 

LITTLE,  BROWN, 
AND    COMPANY 

All  Rights  Reserved 


University  Press  •  John  Wilson 
and  Son   •  Cambridge,  U.  S.  A. 


Author's  Note 


of  a  ^ast  mass  of  newspaper 
articles,  the  majority  of  Ttohich 
must  in  the  nature  of  the  case  be  of 
ephemeral  interest  only,  I  have  taken 
the  twelve  papers  here  collected,  be- 
cause they  seem  fittest  to  survive  the 
life  of  an  hour.  Whatever  'teas  hasty, 
excessive,  or  trivial,  has  been  cut  out, 
after  a  long  seasoning  process,  and,  as 
the  chapters  no^t>  stand,  they  represent 
fairly  and  fully  my  best  artistic  intui- 
tions and  my  strongest  convictions. 

A  good  reason  for  rescuing  any  good 
thing  from  the  limbo  of  old  newspaper 
files  should  be  ft&ofotd.  It  must,  in  the 
first  place,  have  reference  to  a  question 
of  more  than  transitory  importance; 


AUTHOR'S  NOTE 


and  in  the  second  place  it  must  be  dealt 
faith  seriously,  sincerely*  and  compe- 
tently. 

A  still  more  intimate  reason  for  being 
may  be  cited  in  behalf  of  this  little  book. 
These  essays  are  in  a  peculiar  sense  the 
expression  of  my  oJbn  personal  prefer- 
ences and  sympathies;  and  although  I 
am  far  from  being  abot>e  the  desire  to 
please,,  the  Y&ords  here  uttered  are  in- 
spired by  a  deeper  motive — that  of 
being  completely  loyal  to  my  best  ideals 
of  sweetness  and  light  It  is  in  tain  that 
we  journalists  cultivate  the  lifelong  pro- 
fessional habit  of  merging  ourselves  in 
the  impersonal  editorial  entity;  a  man's 
a  man  for  a  that,  and,  as  a  man,  he 
has  his  opinions,  faiths,  enthusiasms, 
which  are  a  part  of  him.  Of  course,  if 
these  be  worth  printing,  it  is  because  of 


AUTHOR'S  NOTE 


their  individuality,  in  form  as  Itoell  as 
in  essence. 

44 A  Day  with  Hats"  Ttoas  the  bulk 
of  a  letter  Written  from  Holland  in  the 
summer  of  J89L  The  fragmentary 
chapters  on  Rembrandt  and  Rubens  be- 
long to  the  same  period  and  the  same 
series  of  letters  from  Holland  and  Bel- 
gium.  The  chapter  about  Fortuny  is 
composed  of  the  best  part  of  a  letter 
from  New  York,  Written  at  the  time  of 
the  exhibition  and  sale  of  the  Stewart 
collection.  The  fragment  frith  regard 
to  Daubigny  is  new,  and  fras  added 
simply  because  I  could  not  bear  to  write 
a  book  Without  putting  into  it  some- 
thing of  what  I  feel  for  the  work  of 
that  incomparable  landscape  painter. 
My  attention  fras  drawn  to  Fdicien 
Rops  and  his  frorks  by  my  friend  Mr. 


AUTHOR'S  NOTE 


S.  R  Koehler,  Curator  of  the  print  de- 
partment, Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Boston, 
tbho  furnished  me  with  the  opportunities 
to  study  the  engravings  and  lithographs 
of  that  singular  genius.  The  chapter 
about  Boutet  de  Monvel  is  very  little 
changed  from  its  original  form,  and  the 
same  thing  is  true  of  the  paper  on  St. 
Gaudens's  Shatb  Monument  As  for 
the  essays  on  Winslolto  Homer,  George 
Inness,  and  John  LaFarge,  they  are 
mosaics,  patiently  put  together,  com- 
posed of  a  great  number  of  parts  taken 
from  many  different  articles,  Written  at 
intervals  years  apart,  but,  as  may  be 
seen,  not  unrelated.  Portions  of  three 
articles,  printed  at  internals  of  a  few 
days,  in  1899,  ha^e  been  joined  to 
form  the  chapter  on  John  Sargent's  por- 
traits. 

8 


AUTHOR'S  NOTE 


It  is  Ifoith  more  than  a  perfunctory 
sentiment  of  gratitude  that  I  acknoltol- 
edge  the  courtesy  of  the  Boston  Tran- 
script Company  in  giving  me  permission 
to  reprint  the  larger  part  of  the  matter 
contained  in  this  volume. 

WILLIAM  HOWE  DOWNES. 
•Boston,  May,  1900. 


CONTENTS 

Page 

A  Day  with  Hals J5 

Rembrandt  at  Home    .««.«.«  35 

Rubens 49 

Fortuny 57 

Daubigny .    *    .  7J 

Felicien  Rops  ..........  79 

Boutet  de  Monvel *  93 

Winslow  Homer JOS 

St.  Gaudens's  Shaw  Monument      .    .    .  J29 

George  Inness's  Landscapes    ......  J45 

John  La  Farge J53 

John  Sargent's  Portraits J65 


A  DAY  WITH  HALS 


Twelve  Great  Artists 

A    DAY    WITH    HALS 

OF  the  many  qualities  desirable  in  a 
portrait,  the  most  essential  is  like- 
ness. This  supreme  merit  has  been 
possessed  in  the  highest  degree  by  the 
great  portrait  painters  of  all  times,  —  by 
Holbein,  Van  Dyck,  Titian,  Raphael, 
Velasquez,  Rembrandt,  and  Hals,  and 
by  the  lesser  great  men  of  later  days; 
and  it  is  a  pre-eminent  characteristic  of 
the  work  of  the  Dutch  old  masters.  By 
likeness  I  do  not  mean  a  literal  and 
superficial  resemblance,  but  the  most 
complete  truthfulness  and  fidelity  to  the 
character  and  expression  of  the  sitter. 
Whatever  defects  may  be  found  in  the 
works  of  the  old  Dutch  portrait  painters, 
they  are  so  universally  honest,  truthful, 

J5 


A  DAY  WITH  HALS 


trustworthy,  that  as  biographical  and 
historical  documents  they  may  be  ac- 
cepted implicitly.  It  is  one  of  the  most 
surprising  experiences  that  comes  to  the 
student  of  the  history  of  art  in  the  gal- 
leries of  Holland  to  discover  such  rare  ex- 
cellences in  the  paintings  of  many  ancient 
artists  absolutely  unknown  to  fame. 

Not  many  years  ago,  soon  after 
Eugene  Fromentin  had  issued  his  bril- 
liant and  authoritative  volume  of  criti- 
cism on  "Les  Maitres  d'Autrefois,"  the 
world  of  artists  jubilantly  rediscovered 
the  almost  forgotten  master  Frans  Hals, 
Inasmuch  as  he  is  the  undisputed  prince 
of  painters  among  his  countrymen,  and 
excels  particularly  in  those  great  groups 
of  life-size  figures  known  in  Holland 
as  Regenten-Stukken,  or  Corporation- 
pieces, —  a  class  of  portrait  paintings 
brought  to  singular  perfection  in  his 

16 


A  DAY  WITH  HALS 


time  and  school,  —  it  will  be  worth 
while  to  say  a  few  words  about  these 
peculiarly  Dutch  productions  in  general 
before  proceeding  to  a  particular  con- 
sideration of  his  works* 

These  life-size  portrait  groups,  in  the 
painting  of  which  not  only  Hals  and 
Rembrandt  and  Van  der  Heist,  but 
many  others, —  such  as  Van  Ravesteyn, 
Flinck,  and  De  Keyser,  —  distinguished 
themselves,  contain  sometimes  as  many 
as  thirty  or  forty  half-length  or  three- 
quarters-length  figures*  In  many  cases 
these  figures  are  to  be  seen  gathered 
about  the  festive  banquet  board,  and 
are  depicted  in  the  acts  of  eating,  drink- 
ing, conversation,  song,  and  laughter. 
Sometimes  they  are  represented  in  a 
solemn  business  conclave,  discussing  the 
weighty  affairs  of  commerce  which  come 
before  boards  of  directors;  again  they 

2  17 


A  DAY  WITH  HALS 


are  seen  assembling  in  the  armory  of 
some  shooting  club,  preparing  to  sally 
forth  in  gaudy  regimentals  for  a  parade 
and  target  competition;  or  it  may  be 
that  they  are  pictured  as  they  listen  to 
a  lecture  on  anatomy  by  a  distinguished 
surgeon;  but  there  are  not  a  few  in- 
stances in  which  they  are  merely  posed 
in  a  group  without  any  pretence  of 
being  there  for  any  other  purpose  than 
that  of  having  their  likenesses  painted. 
In  every  Dutch  art  museum  of  any  con- 
sequence are  hung  imposing  specimens 
of  this  difficult  sort  of  painting,  vast 
canvases  filled  with  living  personages 
of  an  unquestionable  Dutch  stamp.  In 
The  Hague,  for  instance,  at  the  old 
and  drowsy  Municipal  Museum,  not 
far  from  the  Mauritshuis,  little  visited 
by  the  hurried  traveller,  is  a  large  gal- 
lery full  of  Jan  Van  Ravesteyn's  paint- 

JS 


A  DAY  WITH  HALS 


ings.  It  is  safe  to  say  that  few  people 
have  ever  heard  of  this  artist,  yet  his 
Regenten-Stukken  are  wonders  of  life- 
size  portraiture  on  a  grand  scale,  mas- 
terly and  superb  works.  And  in  the 
huge  Rijks-Museum  at  Amsterdam  a 
long  double  suite  of  lofty  alcoves  in 
the  great  Hall  of  Honor  is  crowded  by 
large  paintings  of  the  same  class,  signed 
by  a  score  of  names  seldom  heard 
outside  of  Holland.  It  is  needless  to 
allude  in  detail  to  such  famous  examples 
of  Corporation-pieces  as  Rembrandt's 
much-misunderstood  "  Night  Watch," 
his  ponderous  " Syndics/'  his  "Anat- 
omy Lecture,"  or  to  Van  der  Heist's 
brilliant  and  interesting  banqueting  scene, 
all  of  which  are  intended  for  nothing 
more  nor  less  than  portrait  works. 
These  few  more  celebrated  canvases 
loom  above  the  rest  of  their  kind  be- 

19 


A  DAY  WITH  HALS 


cause  of  great  imaginative  qualities, 
great  intellectual  qualities,  glorious  color, 
or  pronounced  individuality ;  but  it  may 
be  said  that,  as  far  as  painting  goes,  if 
we  can  narrow  our  view  so  as  to  look 
only  at  the  craftsmanship,  they  are  but 
so  many  drops  in  the  Dutch  bucket, 
where  great  workmanship  is  the  rule 
rather  than  the  exception,  the  school 
being  greater  than  any  man  in  it. 

It  is  in  Haarlem,  only  a  few  miles 
from  Amsterdam,  that  Hals  must  be 
studied.  One  might  as  well  claim  to 
know  Velasquez  without  having  been 
in  Madrid,  Rubens  without  having  been 
in  Antwerp,  or  Rembrandt  without  hav- 
ing been  in  Amsterdam,  as  to  assume 
any  familiarity  with  Hals  without  hav- 
ing paid  a  visit  to  the  tranquil  little  city 
of  Haarlem,  which  was  his  home,  and 

which  should  be  the  Mecca  of  every 
20 


A  DAY  WITH  HALS 


artist's  pilgrimage.  A  day  in  the  gal- 
lery of  the  quaint  town-hall,  where  his 
magnificent  row  of  large  portrait  groups 
hangs,  is  one  of  the  richest  treats  that 
Europe  has  to  offer  to  whomsoever  ap- 
preciates the  art  of  painting.  Neither 
Madrid  nor  Antwerp,  with  their  more 
than  regal  treasures  of  art,  causes  a 
more  lasting  impression  of  individual 
greatness.  Frans  Hals  may  be  ranked, 
as  a  portrait  painter,  alongside  of  the 
greatest,  not  only  for  his  unexcelled  vir- 
tuosity, in  which  he  is  allowed  to  be  a 
passed  master,  and  the  peer  of  Rubens 
and  Veronese,  but  also  for  his  elegance 
and  distinction  of  style,  his  profound 
knowledge  of  human  nature,  his  irre- 
sistible ajid  contagious  humor,  his  grasp 
of  character,  and  his  phenomenal  capa- 
city to  express  the  most  elusive  and 
subtile  personal  traits. 

2) 


A  DAY  WITH  HALS 


The  fine  things,  in  a  more  technical 
sense,  about  Hals's  paintings,  are  their 
tremendous  spirit  and  vivacity;  their 
ease,  dash,  fluency,  bravura ;  their  won- 
derful freedom  and  looseness  of  touch; 
their  splendid  breadth  and  largeness  of 
effect;  their  brilliant  and  mellow  color; 
their  firm,  true,  and  bold  draughtsman- 
ship; their  infallibly  good  arrangement. 
Difficulties  seem  not  to  have  existed  for 
him ;  or,  rather,  to  have  existed  simply 
to  give  him  the  joy  of  overcoming  them. 
There  has  never  been  a  painter  in  any 
school  or  age  who  understood  better  and 
controlled  more  fully  the  resources  of 
his  art.  He  was  a  magician  of  the 
brush. 

The  young  French  and  American  art- 
ists who,  moved  by  Fromentin's  elo- 
quence, have  talked  Hals,  preached  Hals, 

and  tried  in  vain  to  paint  Hals,  have 
22 


A  DAY  WITH  HALS 


made  a  mistake  which  is  not  unnatural, 
and  this  mistake  is  in  supposing  that 
Hals  was  merely  a  skilful  technician. 
His  skill,  it  is  true,  is  worthy  of  all  they 
have  said,  of  all  they  can  say  of  it,  but 
when  they  stop  there  they  tell  only  half 
the  story.  An  executant  of  the  first 
order,  with  all  that  that  implies,  Hals 
was  not  only  that;  he  was  moreover 
an  intellectual  man  and  a  person  of 
sentiment  and  imagination.  What  he 
had  to  say  was  as  remarkable  and  as 
well  worth  saying  as  his  way  of  saying 
it  was  fine  and  grand  and  powerful. 
This  is  one  of  the  significant  things 
that  a  journey  to  Haarlem  reveals,  and 
it  confirms  my  belief  that  first-class 
technique  and  first-class  mental  endow- 
ments go  together ;  that  good  workman- 
ship presupposes  intellectual  force  in  the 
workman;  and  that  there  is  no  way 

23 


A  DAY  WITH  HALS 


for  a  painter  to  prove  his  superiority  of 
mind  and  heart  so  satisfactorily  as  by 
painting  well. 

Now  let  me  tell  you  in  a  few  words 
of  the  impression  made  by  the  gallery  of 
portraits  in  Haarlem*  Beginning  near 
the  door  where  visitors  enter  the  room, 
the  great  line  of  pictures  by  Hals  is 
hung  in  chronological  order,  so  that 
they  give  a  complete  resume  of  the  paint- 
er's career  from  the  period  of  his  first 
youthful  successes  up  to  his  extreme  old 
age,  in  which  he  painted,  like  Titian, 
better  than  ever.  This  unexampled 
showing  of  the  life-work  of  a  great  artist, 
all  brought  together  as  a  permanent 
monument  to  his  fame,  in  his  own  city, 
is,  it  may  well  be  supposed,  most  inter- 
esting and  imposing.  One  sees  here, 
far  more  clearly  than  in  reading  all  the 
biographies  and  criticisms  possible,  the 

24 


A  DAY  WITH  HALS 


growth,  development,  and  maturity  of 
this  extraordinary  talent*  All  its  stages 
are  defined,  all  its  idiosyncrasies  illus- 
trated and  explained.  The  man  and  the 
artist  are  mirrored  forth  from  boyhood  to 
senility  with  the  utmost  vividness, 

It  is  hard  to  say  to  which  period  of 
such  a  prodigious  painter's  career  belong 
the  brightest  honors.  Already  great  in 
his  young  days,  he  seems  to  have  climbed 
steadily  from  triumph  to  triumph,  with- 
out retrogression  and  without  faltering. 
The  earliest  paintings  naturally  show 
the  most  careful  regard  for  finish;  the 
intermediate  works  are  more  confidently 
executed;  and  those  of  the  last  period 
are  still  more  broadly  and  loosely  painted, 
It  is  the  usual  order  of  progression.  Hals, 
with  all  his  power  of  indicating  much 
by  a  few  strokes,  did  not  disdain  finish, 
nor  did  he  ever  intentionally  slight  de- 

25 


A  DAY  WITH  HALS 


tails;  and  although  he  understood  so 
well  the  useful  principle  of  sacrifices,  he 
knew  just  when  and  where  to  apply 
it,  and  just  when  and  where  not  to  apply 
it.  He  always  placed  the  right  emphasis 
in  the  most  telling  place*  None  of  his 
works,  not  even  the  most  summary,  look 
unfinished,  careless,  or  slovenly.  He 
could  be  superbly  dashing  in  his  man- 
ner, none  more  so,  but  it  is  perfectly 
obvious  that  he  always  knew  precisely 
what  he  was  about,  never  forgot  him- 
self, coolly  calculated  all  his  effects,  and 
succeeded  in  stirring  others  without  los- 
ing his  own  sang  frotd.  In  a  word,  he 
was  thoroughly  well  balanced* 

His  paintings  are  as  florid  and  beauti- 
ful in  color  as  they  are  lively  in  move- 
ment and  animated  in  expression.  The 
range  and  diversity  of  his  tones  are  ex- 
traordinary. The  resources  of  his  pal- 

26 


A  DAY  WITH  HALS 


ctte  are  boundless.  The  flesh  in  the 
faces  and  hands  of  his  subjects;  their 
gay  costumes  of  fine  fabrics  in  brown, 
yellow,  red,  orange,  green,  blue,  purple, 
gray,  and  white;  the  splendid  banners 
and  waving  plumes  of  his  gallant  revel- 
lers; the  costly  tableware,  china,  glass, 
silver,  snowy  damask,  juicy  fruits,  and 
other  appetizing  edibles;  the  tempting 
array  of  wines,  —  all  these  are  combined 
with  a  boldness  and  a  knowledge  of 
harmonious  contrasts  which  remind  one 
of  Paul  Veronese.  The  eyes  rove  with 
unspeakable  delight  over  these  great  ex- 
panses of  flaming  and  flashing  color. 

The  ease  and  adroitness  of  Hals's 
handiwork  are  of  those  delectable  quali- 
ties that  never  become  otherwise  than 
enjoyable.  The  touch,  which  is  unlike 
any  other  painter's,  has  something  piquant 
and  capricious  about  it.  Light  as  a 

27 


A  DAY  WITH  HALS 


feather  here,  firm  as  the  everlasting  hills 
there;  now  deliberate,  now  rapid  as  a 
lightning-flash;  whatever  change  may 
be  rung  upon  it,  it  is  always  right,  always 
fit. 

This  superior  work  is  not  by  any 
means  spent  on  trivial  or  uninteresting 
or  unworthy  subjects.  The  groups  of 
people  seen  in  Hals's  Corporation-pieces 
are,  like  the  upper-class  Dutch  of  to-day, 
genial,  handsome,  happy,  possessing  the 
finest  complexions  to  be  found  anywhere 
outside  of  England,  and,  what  is  more, 
they  are  persons  of  intelligence  and  good 
breeding.  Here  we  have  a  grand  dinner- 
party of  a  company  of  gallant  muske- 
teers who  are  just  assembling.  Two 
friends  meet  and  shake  hands,  smiling 
and  jolly,  beaming  with  joyous  anticipa- 
tions of  a  social  evening,  good  cheer  of 
meat  and  drink,  of  story  and  song. 

28 


A  DAY  WITH  HALS 


What  amiable  and  contented  expressions 
light  up  the  visages  of  these  good  fel- 
lows I  Merely  to  see  them  is  enough  to 
put  one  in  a  good  humor  with  the  world. 
Portraits  like  this  are  more  than  por- 
traits. The  personages  are  so  striking 
and  remarkable  in  so  many  ways  that 
they  rise  to  the  dignity  and  importance 
of  historic  characters.  Hals  has  the 
faculty  of  interesting  everybody  in  his 
people.  Instead  of  admiring  a  series  of 
effigies,  as  clever  counterfeits  of  men,  the 
observer  finds  himself  speculating  about 
their  lives  and  fortunes,  envying  their 
sunny  temperament,  approving  their 
charming  urbanity  and  cordiality,  mar- 
velling at  their  overflowing  vitality  and 
effervescent  animal  spirits,  and  wishing 
to  be  better  acquainted  with  them.  The 
old  phrase  "  a  speaking  likeness "  is  ex- 
ceptionally applicable  to  all  of  Hals's 

29 


A  DAY  WITH  HALS 


people,  who  are  the  most  loquacious  of 
the  inhabitants  of  the  country  of  art. 
In  looking  at  them  it  is  easy  to  fancy 
that  one  overhears  scraps  of  jovial  con- 
versation, amidst  a  cheerful  hum  of 
dinner-table  chat,  with  occasional  out- 
bursts of  hearty  laughter.  There  are 
serious  faces,  too,  —  faces  of  an  intelli- 
gent and  refined  cast,  types  of  solid  and 
manly  character.  Whatever  the  ex- 
pression may  be,  it  is  the  tremendous 
vitality  which  leaves  the  most  durable 
impression  on  the  memory.  Life  is  the 
Alpha  and  Omega  of  Frans  Hals's  art. 

Toward  the  end  of  the  series  are  two 
groups  of  elderly  people,  —  the  directors 
of  some  charitable  institutions, — a  group 
of  men  and  a  group  of  women.  These 
were  painted  when  Hals  was  quite  old. 
They  are  among  the  most  interesting 
pictures  to  be  seen  in  Holland.  The 

30 


A  DAY  WITH  HALS 


handling,  which  is  in  the  painter's  most 
ragged  and  sketchy  manner,  is  an  ex- 
treme instance  of  a  great  practician's 
suggestive  shorthand*  Near  at  hand, 
nothing  but  a  few  rapid  and  unintel- 
ligible brush  marks;  from  a  point  half- 
way across  the  gallery  these  hieroglyphics 
take  form  and  substance,  and  become 
miraculously  transformed  into  living  and 
breathing  human  beings,  creations  of 
art  whose  intensity  of  life  insures  their 
immortality. 


3J 


REMBRANDT  AT  HOME 


REMBRANDT  AT  HOME 

A  DISMAL  afternoon,  with  gusts  of 
cold  wind  and  an  intermittent 
drizzle.  The  streets  of  Amsterdam, 
dark  and  dull  in  the  best  of  weather, 
are  more  than  ever  gloomy  and  forbid- 
ding. Black  houses,  black  canals,  black 
clothes,  black  pavements,  and  black  skies. 
From  the  broad  Wetering-Schans,  look- 
ing across  the  bridge  and  the  Stadhoud- 
ers-Kade,  the  unending  brick  facade  of 
the  new  Rijks-Museum  looms,  ponder- 
ous, cheerless,  like  a  storage-warehouse. 
At  the  doors  a  knot  of  peasants,  endi- 
manches,  in  their  sombre  North  Holland 
costumes,  are  entering  the  vast  treasure- 
house,  open-mouthed,  ready  to  laugh 
over  Jan  Steen's  broad  sarcasms,  to 
marvel  ingenuously  over  Gerard  Dow's 
microscopic  finish,  and  to  recognize  their 

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REMBRANDT  AT  HOME 

own  prototypes  in  the  physiognomies 
of  Adrian  Van  Ostade's  pippin-cheeked 
little  people. 

A  climb  up  the  shadowy  stone  stairs 
brings  one  to  the  great  antechamber, 
from  which  the  long  Gallery  of  Honor 
opens,  extending  entirely  across  the 
middle  of  the  building  to  the  Rembrandt 
room.  Far  away,  through  this  stately 
vista,  appears  the  immortal  "Night 
Watch/*  glowing  like  a  distant  gleam 
of  mellow  and  vibrating  sunlight  in  a 
dark  place.  At  first  the  illusion  is  almost 
perfect.  It  is  hard  to  realize  that  this 
warm  and  radiant  burst  of  light  is  not 
the  actual  light  of  day  shining  in  through 
some  unseen  window.  So  dramatic  is 
the  effect  that  the  turbulent  action  of 
Captain  Cocq  and  his  men  seems  part 
and  parcel  of  the  movement  of  the  throng 
in  the  gallery.  The  illusion  is  aided  by 

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REMBRANDT  AT  HOME 

every  detail  of  the  hanging  and  lighting. 
No  picture  in  the  world  is  more  royally 
placed.  It  receives  the  light  from  a  lofty 
skylight,  and  the  middle  of  the  room  is 
darkened  by  a  large  canopy,  so  that  the 
visitor  looks  from  the  shaded  part  of  the 
gallery  into  the  illuminated  part.  The 
painting  is  hung  so  low  that  the  bottom 
of  the  carved  and  panelled  wooden  frame 
rests  on  the  floor.  The  picture,  eleven 
by  fourteen  feet  in  dimensions,  is  tilted 
very  slightly  forward  from  the  wall,  and 
no  reflections  from  its  varnished  surface 
detract  from  its  depth  of  atmosphere. 

The  "Night  Watch"  is  not  a  Night 
Watch.  The  most  unmistakable  thing 
about  the  picture  is  the  sunlight  in  it. 
Late  afternoon  is  the  time  o*  day;  the 
warm  level  rays  color  the  atmosphere 
and  envelop  all  objects  in  a  tender 
amber  veil.  It  was  this  light  which  in- 

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REMBRANDT  AT  HOME 

terested  the  painter,  absorbed  him,  to  the 
exclusion  of  everything  else;  he  sacri- 
ficed everything  to  beauty  of  tone  and 
produced  a  riot  of  warm  color,  with 
atmospheric  gold  for  its  keynote.  Por- 
traiture, grouping,  arrangement,  and  all 
that,  which  he  understood  so  well,  goes 
for  nothing.  No  interest  in  the  character 
as  such.  It  is  all  an  effect,  —  an  effect 
of  light,  which  is  surpassingly  beautiful, 
and  unlike  anything  else  in  art  any- 
where. It  intoxicates  the  eye,  without 
rhyme  or  reason.  After  seeing  it,  go 
home,  for  sane  and  correct  art  has  lost 
its  savor  for  the  time,  and  is  cold,  trite, 
and  tiresome.  Van  der  Heist  is  like 
milk-and-water. 

It   is    no  wonder    that    orderly  and 
logical    minds    like    Fromentin's    falter 
and  stumble  when  they  endeavor  to  in- 
terpret such  oracles  as  these.    They  can 
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REMBRANDT  AT  HOME 

not  reconcile  the  result  with  the  means 
used  to  obtain  it.  Criticism  has  black- 
ened its  own  eyes  by  running  against 
the  "  Night  Watch/'  Why  not  cut  the 
Gordian  knot  by  saying  genius  has  these 
unaccountable  flights  and  need  not  ex- 
plain itself?  Surely,  no  work  of  art 
known  is  more  utterly  original,  apart, 
unique;  none  more  wholly  defies  cold- 
blooded analysis  and  "  scientific  "  criti- 
cism. Who  shall  undertake  to  say  in 
what  exalted  vision  the  mighty  dreamer 
saw  that  glory  of  liquid,  molten,  trans- 
parent gold,  unreal  as  the  celestial  pic- 
tures woven  in  sleep  for  those  who  love 
beauty?  and  who  shall  say  in  what 
delirium  he  dared  to  attempt  the  impos- 
sible task  of  uttering  the  unutterable? 
The  suggestion  of  that  vision,  with  all 
its  shortcomings,  is  worth  crossing  the 
Atlantic  to  see.  No  engraving,  etching, 

39 


REMBRANDT  AT  HOME 

photograph,  or  reproduction  of  whatever 
sort  gives  the  remotest  idea  of  it.  No 
one  can  know  Rembrandt  without  going 
to  Amsterdam* 

The  famous  group  of  the  six  directors 
of  the  Netherlands  Dry  Goods  Trust, 
commonly  known  as  "The  Syndics," 
is  less  well  painted  than  the  excellent 
reproductions  lead  one  to  expect.  It 
was  done  when  Rembrandt  was  fifty- 
five  years  old,  eight  years  before  his 
death;  at  that  time  his  color  was  ex- 
tremely hot  and  florid ;  again  everything 
is  sacrificed  to  an  ideal  of  color,  arbitrary, 
unnatural,  ruddy ;  but  here  we  have  to 
do  with  straight  portrait-painting,  and 
it  therefore  requires  a  certain  amount  of 
effort  to  get  into  the  proper  mood  to 
accept  the  conventional  tone.  What  I 
mean  to  say  is  that,  as  a  portrait  painter, 
Rembrandt  could  be  so  admirably  per- 

40 


REMBRANDT  AT  HOME 

feet,  as  respects  observation  of  character, 
penetration,  fidelity,  the  representation  of 
the  mind  in  the  face;  he  could  be  so 
lucid,  simple,  logical,  and  exhaustive,  that 
this  game  of  Rouge-et-Noir  is  at  first 
view  rather  disconcerting.  One  can 
hardly  hope  to  make  this  feeling  clear 
without  emphasizing  the  general  excel- 
lence of  the  Dutch  Regenten-Stukken, 
or  corporation  pictures;  for,  what  with 
Frans  Hals  at  Haarlem,  Jan  Van  Rave- 
steyn  at  The  Hague,  Bartholomew  Van 
der  Heist  at  Amsterdam,  these  old  giants 
make  one  difficult  to  please  in  the  matter 
of  life-size  groups. 

"The  Syndics "  makes  such  a  fine 
black-and-white,  too,  that  the  feeling  of 
having  seen  it  before  is  uncommonly 
strong.  A  good  photograph  gives  you 
the  idea  of  it:  the  gravity  and  intelli- 
gence of  the  six  well-to-do  cloth  mer- 

4t 


REMBRANDT  AT  HOME 

chants,  that  aspect  of  dignity,  austerity, 
and  personal  weight  of  character.  How 
deeply  quiet,  sober,  modest,  genuine, — 
genuine  is  the  word  for  it,  —  and  yet 
how  full  of  ardent  life !  I  think  "  The 
Syndics  "  is  the  best  picture  in  the  world 
of  a  first-class  group  of  business  men,  — 
men  of  affairs.  It  is  a  commentary,  an 
exposition,  and  a  revelation  of  Dutch 
commerce,  probity,  success,  wealth, 
power,  and  influence.  Fancy  a  man 
who  could  paint  all  that  and  more  into 
a  group  of  portraits,  and  who  could  also 
conceive  the  "  Night  Watch/'  a  pure 
fantasy,  and  the  "  Anatomy  Lesson/' 
and  those  divine  little  Biblical  scenes, 
all  alive  with  humanity,  pathos,  love, 
suffering,  joy,  — 

"  All  thoughts,  all  passions,  all  delights, 
Whatever  stirs  this  mortal  frame." 
42 


REMBRANDT  AT  HOME 

I  admire  Rembrandt's  early  portraits 
more  than  his  late  ones,  for  they  seem 
to  be  better  likenesses,  and  are  painted 
with  more  scrupulous  care*  They  are 
more  truthful,  which  is,  of  course,  a 
supreme  merit  in  a  portrait*  Take,  for 
instance,  the  portrait  of  Mrs*  Elizabeth 
Jacobs  Bas,  the  widow  of  Admiral  Swar- 
tenhout,  in  the  Van  de  Poll  room  of  the 
Rijks-Museum.  This  represents  an  old 
lady,  seated,  three-quarters-length;  is 
largely  executed  in  black  and  white  and 
brown;  very  simple;  extremely  con- 
scientious; individuality  strong  and  un- 
mistakable; tone  cool  and  discreet*  It 
is  a  triumph  of  close  observation  and  of 
intelligent  statement;  and  no  one  who 
has  seen  it  can  forget  Elizabeth  Bas* 
Fine  as  the  artist's  broader  and  looser 
style  is,  he  is  at  his  best  as  a  portraitist 
when  he  takes  the  most  pains,  studies 

43 


REMBRANDT  AT  HOME 

his  sitter  with  the  greatest  deliberation, 
and  paints  in  his  coolest  manner. 

The  fiery  tone  of  *"The  Syndics " 
and  of  "  The  Jewish  Bride  "  is  an  inten- 
tional and  lawful  departure  from  the  imi- 
tation of  nature,  but  it  is  an  excess  and  a 
mannerism.  In  the  minds  of  some  ama- 
teurs it  constitutes  the  greatest  merit  of 
Rembrandt;  it  is  to  them  his  chief  hall- 
mark of  genius ;  they  are  at  least  always 
sure  to  recognize  it;  it  is  handy  as  a 
signature;  and  thus  they  fall  easy  prey 
to  the  counterfeiters.  I  have  seen  alleged 
Rembrandts  of  a  coppery  tone,  which 
were  very  badly  painted,  and  which  had 
nothing  to  say.  It  is  possible  that  Rem- 
brandt did  paint  them;  for  he  certainly 
was  capable  of  painting  a  bad  "picture. 
It  is  only  your  mediocre  men  who  strike 
twelve  every  time. 

"The  Anatomy  Lesson "  is  a  noble 

44 


REMBRANDT  AT  HOME 

example  of  intellectual  portraiture*  It 
sets  forth  the  absolute  dispassionateness 
of  the  scientific  mind.  Its  style  is  ele- 
vated, serious,  lucid,  and  virile;  and 
although  it  is  the  work  of  the  most 
imaginative  of  painters,  it  is  all  in  prose, 
and  without  exaltation.  It  is  not  more 
skilful  than  certain  life-si^e  groups  by 
other  Dutchmen,  but  it  is  more  sensitive, 
subtle,  profound.  Rembrandt  was  only 
twenty-six  when  he  painted  this  dissect- 
ing-room scene.  It  is  a  great  picture  in 
its  way,  but  it  only  foreshadowed  the 
greater  pictures  to  come,  "Simeon  in 
the  Temple"  is  also  an  early  work 
which  is  full  of  interest  for  its  personal 
sentiment,  its  suggestiveness,  and  its 
typical  character.  A  dark,  solemn  in- 
terior, with  lofty  arches,  aisles  and  walls 
vaguely  visible;  a  broad  flight  of  steps 
where  groups  of  little  figures  have  gath- 

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REMBRANDT  AT  HOME 

ered ;  and  in  the  middle  a  stream  of  light 
falling  from  an  unseen  window  upon 
the  principal  personages,  —  Simeon,  in  a 
rich  robe,  holding  the  child  Jesus  in  his 
arms,  and  kneeling  with  upturned  eyes 
(a  venerable  and  striking  figure);  the 
Virgin  at  his  side,  on  her  knees;  the 
high  priest,  arrayed  in  splendid  vest- 
ments, raising  his  arms  to  pronounce  a 
blessing  upon  the  divine  infant;  and 
Joseph,  with  a  couple  of  rabbis,  —  all 
this  has  the  traditional  and  recognizable 
Rembrandt  flavor  in  its  original  purity, 
and  it  is  exceedingly  choice. 


46 


RUBENS 


RUBENS 

new  art  museum  in  Antwerp 
is  now  as  much  the  headquarters 
for  old  Flemish  art  as  the  Rijks-Museum 
at  Amsterdam  is  for  old  Dutch  art. 
The  huge  Renaissance  building,  with 
its  twenty-two  picture  galleries,  contains 
all  the  best  examples  of  the  Belgian  big 
and  little  masters  which  were  once  scat- 
tered throughout  Antwerp,  in  churches, 
monasteries,  chateaux,  and  town  hall* 
The  collection  of  paintings,  numbering 
more  than  a  thousand,  puts  Antwerp 
well  up  toward  the  front  in  the  gener- 
ous competition  for  artistic  pre-eminence ; 
and  this  is  as  it  should  be  in  the  home 
of  Peter  Paul  Rubens.  No  one  can 
claim  to  know  Rubens  hereafter  without 
seeing  his  masterpieces  in  the  Antwerp 
Palace  of  the  Fine  Arts. 

4  49 


RUBENS 

This  applies  particularly  to  two  pic- 
tures, —  the  "  Coup  de  Lance "  and  the 
"  Communion  of  Saint  Francis  of  Assisi." 
The  furious  and  magnificent  brio  of  the 
"  Coup  de  Lance  "  is  unparalleled*  For 
brilliance  of  color,  vigor  of  action,  and 
dramatic  intensity  it  stands  alone*  It 
excites  the  beholder  by  its  blaze  of  color 
like  a  royal  banner  flaunting  in  the  sun- 
light and  the  breeze,  like  a  sudden  clarion 
strain  of  martial  music  calling  a  host  to 
arms.  It  takes  away  the  breath.  It  is 
overpowering.  Mary  Magdalene  on 
her  knees  weeping  at  the  foot  of  the 
cross  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and 
most  affecting  figures  ever  painted  by 
this  potent  prince  of  art.  The  Roman 
officer  on  his  dapple-gray  horse  giving 
the  spear-thrust  is  a  superb  type  of 
cruelty.  The  struggles  of  the  bad  thief 
on  the  cross  are  depicted  with  unspeak- 

50 


RUBENS 

able  power.  In  comparison  with  this 
resonant  and  inspired  work,  in  which 
the  skill  and  knowledge  and  passion  of 
a  glorious  lifetime  are  summed  up  in  a 
tremendous  artistic  climax,  the  two  cele- 
brated paintings  in  the  cathedral  of  Ant- 
werp dwindle  into  relative  insignificance. 
"The  Elevation  of  the  Cross "  and 
44  The  Descent  from  the  Cross/'  in  front 
of  which  groups  of  reverent  travellers 
worship  daily  from  year  to  year,  are  in 
a  bad  light,  it  is  true,  but  even  in  favor- 
able surroundings  it  is  doubtful  if  they 
could  stand  the  test  of  a  comparison 
with  the  "Coup  de  Lance/' 

Two  pictures  could  hardly  be  more 
unlike  than  the  "Coup  de  Lance "  and 
the  "Communion  of  Saint  Francis  of 
Assisi."  The  latter  is  painted  almost 
wholly  in  a  rich  scale  of  quiet  brown 
tones,  and  it  is  pre-eminently  a  picture 

51 


RUBENS 

of  tragic  sentiment,  in  which  the  artist, 
more  than  in  any  other  work,  gave  free 
rein  to  his  consciousness  of  the  sadness 
of  death.  Saint  Francis,  dying,  has  been 
brought  to  the  altar  to  receive  the  bread 
of  heaven.  There  he  kneels,  supported 
tenderly  by  two  of  his  brethren,  and  sur- 
rounded by  a  group  of  the  monks  of  his 
order,  who  are  vainly  endeavoring  to 
keep  back  their  tears.  The  working  of 
grief  in  the  lineaments  of  these  robust 
men  is  indescribably  pathetic.  There 
are  few  pictures  by  the  great  masters 
of  expression  which  appeal  more  touch- 
ingly  to  the  sympathies  of  the  observer. 
The  false  popular  impression  regarding 
Rubens,  which  credits  him  with  nothing 
more  exalted  than  the  representation  of 
carnal,  material,  and  pagan  beauty,  of 
the  earth  earthy,  is  completely  and  finally 
refuted  by  this  sacred  work  of  feeling. 

52 


RUBENS 

Fromentin  was  deeply  touched  by  the 
"  Communion  of  Saint  Francis  of  Assisi/' 
and  devoted  to  it  one  of  his  most  heart- 
felt pages. 


53 


FORTUNY 


FORTUNY 


THE  name  of  Mariano  Fortuny  is 
one  to  conjure  with.  He  had  but 
a  brief  career,  painted  few  pictures,  and 
when  he  died,  at  the  age  of  thirty-six, 
he  left  a  great  reputation,  which  has 
not  shrunk  in  the  last  twenty  years. 
Fortuny  stands  for  all  that  is  techni- 
cally brilliant  in  the  modern  art  of 
painting;  he  founded  the  "school  of 
the  hand/*  as  Yriarte  called  it ;  he  was 
the  father  of  the  whole  brood  of  vir- 
tuosi like  Zamacois,  Domingo,  Madrazo, 
Rico,  Boldini.  He  was  responsible  for 
the  thing  of  chiffons  and  bibelots  that 
we  call  the  Hispano-Roman  water-color 
school.  He  was  a  sun-worshipper;  he 
loved  light;  whatever  sparkled  attracted 
him:  he  was  a  moth,  a  Zoroastrian,  a 
civilized  savage.  He  painted  without 

57 


FORTUNY 

sentiment,  without  feeling,  without  sym- 
pathy. His  pictures  are  still-life  pieces, 
in  which  a  man  is  a  man  and  a  vase  is 
a  vase,  and  one  is  as  good  as  the 
other;  but  so  well  did  he  do  the  work 
that  no  one  who  knows  good  painting 
is  able  to  lay  it  up  against  him.  He 
was  a  painter  to  his  finger-tips,  and 
there  is  a  strangely  fascinating,  barbaric 
flavor  in  his  best  work,  which  is  un- 
like that  of  any  other  artist.  Such 
drawing,  such  color,  such  a  sense  of 
the  character  of  things,  such  a  com- 
mand of  expression,  such  a  certainty, 
mastery,  ease,  and  perfection  of  method 
rise  almost  to  the  plane  of  the  super- 
human. 

The  most  characteristic,  congenial, 
racy,  and  spontaneous  picture  that  For- 
tuny  ever  painted,  the  work  by  which 
he  can  best  be  estimated  and  known, 

58 


FORTUNY 

that  which  reveals  him  in  his  most  inti- 
mate and  natural  vein,  —  in  a  word,  the 
Fortuny  par  excellence,  —  is  the  "  Arab 
Fantasia."  Although  the  Spaniards 
conquered  the  Moors,  the  vanquished 
race  exerted  an  acknowledged  influence 
over  the  victors.  Fortuny  was  one  of 
those  Spaniards  so  constituted  that  he 
understood  intuitively  the  very  soul  of 
the  Arab,  and  could  set  forth  by  a 
brush-stroke  or  two  whole  volumes  of 
exposition  of  the  spirit  of  Moorish  civ- 
ilization. It  is,  therefore,  not  at  all  sur- 
prising that  the  "  Arab  Fantasia  "  should 
be  the  Fortuny  of  Fortunys,  and  that 
it  should  reveal  more  of  the  real  man 
and  the  artist  than  the  "Choix  du 
Modele"  or  "Les  Supplicies."  The 
motive  appealed  with  peculiar  force  to 
the  temperament  and  taste  of  the  singu- 
lar being  before  whose  genius  the  world 

59 


FORTUNY 


of  art  was  to  prostrate  itself  in  an 
ecstasy  of  admiration  and  whose  virtu- 
osity actually  demanded  a  new  vocabu- 
lary for  its  definition.  A  relatively  early 
example,  this  wonderful  canvas  repre- 
sents a  group  of  four  or  five  Arab 
warriors  going  through  an  extravagant 
war  dance,  the  purpose  of  which  is  to 
arouse  martial  ardor  by  means  of  the 
most  barbaric  motions  and  noises,  such 
as  jumping,  whirling,  howling,  and  fir- 
ing their  rifles,  with  a  frenzied  abandon. 
The  fantasia  is  watched  with  intense 
interest  by  a  crowd  of  spectators,  includ- 
ing sheiks,  soldiers,  idlers,  and  others, 
who  stand  about  in  their  white  and 
colored  burnouses.  One  of  the  com- 
pany is  mounted  on  a  horse;  another 
has  his  pet  lion  with  him.  Some  of 
the  men  are  excited;  others  are  indiffer- 
ent; and  there  are  some  who  appear 

60 


FORTUNY 

drowsy*  The  types  of  African  char- 
acter are  admirable.  Though  on  a 
small  scale,  the  figures  are  each  and  all 
completely  studied  portraits,  each  hav- 
ing its  individual  and  racial  qualities 
exquisitely  rendered.  In  the  dancing 
maniacs  in  the  foreground,  the  artist 
has  conveyed  an  astounding  impres- 
sion of  the  strenuous  movement  and 
wildness  of  the  subject,  and  the  work 
has  been  justly  called  a  veritable  feat 
of  dash,  of  dazzling  color  and  energetic 
action.  No  words  were  ever  coined 
fit  to  describe  the  "Arab  Fantasia/' 
It  is  the  concentrated  essence  of  For- 
tuny*s  art. 

Compared  with  the  "Fantasia,"  the 
celebrated  and  much  discussed  "Choice 
of  the  Model "  is  frivolous,  shallow, 
even  a  little  vulgar,  what  with  its  rose- 
pink  tones,  its  rococo  furnishings,  its 

61 


FORTUNY 

superabundance  of  gaudy  Louis  XV. 
properties,  and  the  Dresden  china  shep- 
herdess pose  of  the  nude  model.  Yes, 
I  hope  it  is  not  priggish  to  say  that 
this  renowned  and  marvellous  tour  de 
force  has  a  slight  but  appreciable  soupcon 
of  cheapness.  It  is  too  precious,  too 
amusing,  and,  I  will  venture  to  say,  too 
evenly  well  executed  in  all  its  parts, 
to  be  the  unimpeachable  work  of  art. 
It  is  a  picture  which  makes  not  the 
slightest  claim  to  possess  any  human 
interest  more  than  skin-deep,  and  it  is 
destitute  of  the  first  hint  or  iota  of  feel- 
ing. I  hold  that  it  is  out  of  date  to 
exalt  the  silk-stocking  school  of  art. 
It  is  hopelessly  artificial  and  inane. 
The  votary  of  art  for  art  may  gape, 
stare,  gesticulate,  wag  his  thumb,  and 
tear  his  hair  over  the  skilful  treatment 
of  surfaces  and  the  dexterous  imitation 

62 


FORTUNY 

of  marbles,  bronzes,  textiles,  and  what 
not ;  but  I  do  not  find  the  pompous  and 
superannuated  dandies  of  the  "Choix 
du  Modele"  interesting,  except  for  a 
moment,  nor  am  I  disposed  to  condone 
the  heresy  of  making  ormolu,  porphyry, 
satin,  and  pearl-powder  the  peers  of  flesh- 
and-blood  human  beings,  and  of  lifting 
the  mise  en  scene  to  an  importance  equal 
with  that  of  the  actors, 

"The  Antiquary "  is  of  an  old  and 
well-worn  genre,  but  it  is  painted  with 
an  inimitable  degree  of  perfection.  In 
a  room  littered  with  bric-a-brac  and 
objects  of  art,  the  antiquary  sits,  with 
a  portfolio  in  his  lap,  scrutinizing  a  rare 
engraving.  Behind  him  stands  a  friend, 
who  leans  over  the  back  of  the  chair  to 
glance  at  the  print.  Among  the  things 
in  the  room  are  a  jaunty  scarlet  cockatoo 
seated  on  its  perch,  a  suit  of  Japanese 

63 


FORTUNY 

armor,  a  richly  sculptured  treasure-chest, 
a  fine  red  vase,  some  pieces  of  Venetian 
glass,  and,  in  a  splendid  Florentine  frame, 
hanging  over  a  carved  white  marble 
mantelpiece,  a  painting  of  a  knight  in 
armor,  which  is  really  a  likeness  of  Mr. 
Stewart,  the  patron  for  whom  the  pic- 
ture was  painted.  Fortuny,  with  his 
extraordinary  faculty  of  observation  and 
his  passion  for  light,  was  at  his  best  in 
painting  such  subjects  as  "Les  Suppli- 
cies,"  which  figured  in  the  catalogue  of 
the  Stewart  collection  as  the  "Court 
of  Justice,  Alhambra."  This  beautiful 
little  picture,  painted  in  J87J,  is  the  ad- 
miration and  despair  of  artists,  who  can 
best  appreciate  the  difficulties  and  possi- 
bilities of  the  motive.  In  a  courtyard 
of  the  Alhambra,  looking  into  the  horse- 
shoe arch  doorway  of  the  exquisite 
boudoir  of  Lindaraxa,  one  of  the  few 

64 


FORTUNY 

remaining  perfect  bits  of  the  Moresque 
architecture  which  Spanish  vandalism 
has  spared  in  that  mutilated  and  white- 
washed palace,  several  black  criminals 
lie  stretched  out  on  their  backs  on  the 
sun-scorched  pavement,  with  their  feet 
in  the  stocks.  A  negro  sentinel,  clad  in 
a  red  and  white  burnous,  and  armed 
with  an  inlaid  rifle,  squats,  in  the  bril- 
liant sunshine,  on  guard  over  the  prison- 
ers. In  the  background  sits  a  stolid 
Moor  on  a  rug ;  there  are  others  farther 
back  in  the  shade.  A  distant  window 
opens  on  the  delicate  greenery  of  a  little 
garden.  In  the  foreground,  surrounded 
by  a  border  of  deep  blue  and  green  glazed 
tiles,  is  the  small  circular  basin  of  a 
fountain.  The  cool  shadows  on  the 
marble  contrast  with  the  dazzling  pas- 
sage of  sunlight  which  falls  across  the 
walls  at  the  right  side  of  the  composi- 

5  65 


FORTUNY 

tion.  The  drawing  and  coloring  of  the 
intricate  arabesque  reliefs  of  the  walls, 
the  hanging  lamps,  the  tiles  and  the 
rugs,  are  inexpressibly  fine* 

I  wish  that  Fortunes  life  could  have 
been  lengthened  sufficiently  to  enable 
him  to  complete  the  beautiful  unfinished 
painting  of  "The  Alberca  Court,  AI- 
hambra,"  with  its  big  oblong  basin  of 
water  reflecting  its  arcades,  its  myrtles, 
and  the  splendid  Oriental  rug  hanging 
over  the  balustrade  of  its  balcony*  This 
magnificent  fragment  is  laid  in,  in  For- 
tuny's  clear,  treble,  resonant  key;  and 
it  is  a  mosaic  of  incomparable  brightness 
and  lucidity,  as  gorgeous  in  color  as  an 
old  Persian  enamel*  Another  unfinished 
work  was  known  to  the  painter's  friends 
as  the  "Cour  des  Cochons,"  for  there 
are  some  pigs  rooting  about  in  the  fore- 
ground* No  doubt  the  sketch  shows 

66 


FORTUNY 

the  part  of  the  Alhambra  which  was  at 
one  time  turned  into  a  nest  of  tenements, 
where  Washington  Irving  first  found  a 
lodging  in  the  house  of  Tia  Antonia. 
There  is  nothing  in  the  subject  but  a 
few  common  whitewashed  stucco  walls 
and  red  Spanish  tile  roofs,  plus  the  sun- 
light and  a  superb  sky ;  but  it  is  one  of 
the  most  powerful  sketches  Fortuny  left, 
and,  for  breadth  of  handling  and  depth 
of  tone,  is  worthy  of  Vollon.  The  sky, 
merely  blocked  in,  is  all  movement, 
animation,  depth,  and  grandeur. 


67 


DAUBIGNY 


DAUBIGNY 


DAUBIGNY  is  my  favorite  landscape 
painter.  No  doubt  there  may  be 
others  who  excel  in  various  regards,  but 
there  is  none,  ancient  or  modern,  who 
expresses  in  his  work  so  completely  the 
kind  of  beauty  that  appeals  to  my  heart. 
With  those  who  prefer  Corot  I  have  no 
quarrel,  but  there  are  certain  landscapes 
by  Daubigny  which,  although  I  have  not 
seen  them  for  years,  remain  fixed  in  my 
memory  as  the  most  satisfying  works  of 
their  class  in  existence.  One  of  these  is 
44  The  Cooper's  Shop  "  (or,  as  it  is  some- 
times called, 44  The  Forge  ")  in  the  col- 
lection of  Mr.  Francis  Bartlett.  Few 
nobler  landscapes  have  been  painted. 
It  says  for  me  the  strong  and  tender 
things  about  Nature  that  I  cannot  say. 

There  is  in  it  a  world  of  fine  manly  sen- 
n 


DAUBIGNY 


timent.  It  is  full  of  life  and  intelligence. 
It  has,  in  its  highest  expression,  that 
sense  of  the  meditative,  brooding,  twilight 
aspect  of  the  world  which  is  the  peculiar 
realm  of  Daubigny's  art.  Yet  it  is  dis- 
tinctly melancholy,  as  so  many  of  the 
great,  true  things  must  be. 

It  is  difficult  to  define  the  charm  of 
a  painter  so  simple  as  Daubigny.  In 
order  to  set  forth  his  qualities  satisfac- 
torily, one  would  need  to  be  equally 
simple,  made  of  the  same  stuff.  I  feel 
that  his  genuineness  is  more  invincible 
than  that  of  other  painters ;  he  is  genu- 
ineness itself.  He  is  grave  and  reserved ; 
he  never  utters  a  superfluous  phrase.  In 
their  poise,  harmony,  and  serenity,  his 
works  are  Greek.  They  impress  me 
like  the  modest  sayings  of  one  who  is 
wise  and  gentle.  The  absence  of  arti- 
fice and  of  rhetoric  is  admirable ;  it  adds 

72 


DAUBIGNY 


to  the  weight  and  authority  with  which 
he  speaks.  Painters  must  love  his  pic- 
tures. He  is  robust,  virile,  and  strong, 
but  never  uncouth  or  brutal.  In  a 
word,  he  is  a  Man. 

By  seeking  the  truth,  without  egotism 
and  without  prejudice,  Daubigny  builded 
better  than  he  knew.  An  artist  of  such 
firm  fibre,  working  along  the  right  lines, 
may  well  leave  his  ideal  to  express  it- 
self. If  I  read  Daubigny's  thought 
aright,  it  is  as  good  as  gold.  And  there 
is  that  in  it  which  belongs  solely  to  him. 
Can  any  trace  of  foreign  influences  be 
found  in  his  style?  He  is  like  neither 
the  Dutch  nor  the  English  landscapists, 
and  he  is  still  farther  away  from  the 
Italians.  His  landscapes  are  as  sponta- 
neous as  those  of  Constable,  but  there  all 
resemblance  ends.  Nature  is  mirrored 
naturally,  but  her  visage  is  glorified  by  the 

73 


DAUBIGNY 


filial  spirit  of  the  workman.  Under  the 
delightfully  free,  broad,  and  knowing  exe- 
cution of  the  surface  of  his  pictures  there 
is  a  fund  of  pure  and  ardent  emotion,  a 
spring  of  deep  and  tender  love,  which 
has  not  its  exact  parallel  anywhere. 

Daubigny  is  pre-eminently  the  poet  of 
the  river.  Who  has  painted  its  slow 
current  gliding  stealthily  under  the  shad- 
ows of  rocky  and  wooded  shores,  as  he 
has?  Who  has  so  felt  the  beauty  of 
the  velvet  dark  pool  where  the  stream 
loiters  in  the  morning  coolness  of  its 
coves?  Who  has  looked  with  such 
reverent  and  loving  eyes  upon  its  flash- 
ing splendors  beneath  the  fading  light 
of  evening?  Who  has  grasped  the 
aspect  of  sedgy  shallows  with  such  in- 
timate truth?  Who  has  so  exquisitely 
suggested  the  river's  mysteries,  or  so 
nobly  interpreted  the  majestic  seaward 

74 


DAUBIGNY 


flow  of  its  flood  ?  He  has  given  to  the 
Oise  a  fame  that  will  extend  as  far  as 
the  frontiers  of  art  extend. 

We  are  not  talking  of  the  Daubignys 
of  the  shops.  A  good  example  of  Dau- 
bigny  is  as  well  finished  as  a  self-respect- 
ing picture  needs  to  be.  There  was 
one  of  his  works  in  the  Seney  sale  of 
J89J  which  represented  a  village  on  the 
Oise :  a  greater  perfection  of  color,  light, 
and  atmosphere  could  hardly  be  imag- 
ined. This  canvas  had  been  in  the  ex- 
hibition of  one  hundred  masterpieces  in 
Paris  in  1883;  it  was  dated  J875.  The 
small  pictures  in  the  Ames  collection, 
Boston,— a  "Village  Church,"  "Soldi 
Couchant,"  and,  above  all,  "Le  Petit 
Pont/' — are  of  similar  excellence.  In 
these  compact  pictures  Daubigny  forgets 
to  be  imposing,  but  he  is  incomparably 
charming. 

75 


FELIOEN  ROPS 


FELICIEN  ROPS 

FELIOEN  ROPS  was  a  great  picto- 
rial genius.  He  was  described  by 
one  of  his  biographers  as  a  Belgian  by 
birth,  a  Hungarian  by  descent,  and  a 
Parisian  by  adoption.  His  birthplace 
was  the  quaint  and  picturesque  Flemish 
town  of  Namur,  and  he  was  educated 
at  the  University  of  Brussels.  He  be- 
came almost  as  versatile  as  Leonardo 
da  Vinci.  He  was  a  painter,  a  pastel- 
list,  a  designer,  an  etcher,  a  dry-pointer, 
an  aquatinter,  an  engraver  in  all  styles, 
a  lithographer,  a  humorist,  a  prophet,  a 
visionary,  an  anecdotist,  a  traveller,  a 
botanist,  an  arboriculturist,  and  various 
other  things  which  need  not  be  specified. 
Among  his  earliest  published  works  were 
some  satirical  lithographs  designed  for  the 
"Almanach  Crocodilien."  These  were 

79 


FELICIEN  ROPS 


followed  by  a  series  of  similar  designs 
on  stone  for  the  Salons  Comiques.  In 
J856  he  started,  in  Brussels,  a  humor- 
ous weekly  known  as  the  "Uylenspiegel," 
to  which  he  contributed  a  large  number 
of  spirited  cartoons.  Two  years  later 
he  made  a  series  of  illustrations  for  the 
"  Flemish  Legends  "  of  his  friend  Charles 
de  Coster.  These  drawings  recalled  the 
biting  caricatures  of  Daumier.  From 
I860,  Rops,  who  lived  for  the  rest  of 
his  life  in  Paris,  made  countless  book 
illustrations,  titlepages,  frontispieces,  etc* 
Although  much  of  his  work  is  erotic, 
J.  K.  Huysmans  testifies  that  Rops  him- 
self was  a  man  of  orderly  life,  whose 
character  in  no  degree  corresponded  to 
the  candid  brutality  of  his  pictures.  A 
man's  mental  attitude  toward  women 
must  be  to  a  great  extent  the  result  of 
his  personal  experiences  in  relation  to 

80 


FELIOEN  ROPS 


individuals  of  the  other  sex.  Men  who 
are  helped  by  women,  not  harmed,  and 
who  think  of  women  as  human  beings 
and  comrades,  can  hardly  understand, 
much  less  relish,  some  of  Rops's  plates. 
He  was  a  hater  of  women  and  priests. 
By  the  bitterness  and  scorn  with  which 
he  satirized  the  objects  of  his  aversion 
he  especially  endeared  himself  to  the 
Decadents  and  Symbolists,  who  are 
more  or  less  united  by  an  affinity  of 
hatreds.  Baudelaire's  works  have  been 
illustrated  by  Rops  in  a  manner  which 
reveals  an  innate  sympathy  with  the 
spirit  of  "The  Flowers  of  Evil." 

Rops  had  a  marked  aversion  also  to 
publicity  of  any  kind.  He  remarked  to 
a  friend  who  asked  him  why  he  did  not 
exhibit  his  works,  "Je  n'expose  pas, 
pour  ne  pas  m'exposer  a  recevoir  une 
mention  honorable."  In  this  contemptu- 

6  81 


FELICIEN  ROPS 


ous  phrase  is  summed  up  all  of  his  scorn- 
ful and  impatient  temper  toward  human 
society.  Whoever  looks  over  a  collec- 
tion of  his  works  will  find  in  it,  ex- 
pressed with  a  power  which  compels 
admiration,  his  deep  hostility  to  the 
materialistic  spirit  of  the  age.  In  all 
of  his  lithographs,  as  in  all  of  his  etch- 
ings and  engravings,  appears  the  same 
savage  contempt  for  the  meanness  of 
mankind,  upon  which  he  heaps  malice, 
sarcasm,  and  stinging  ridicule.  Appar- 
ently he  deems  that  the  universal  lust 
of  gain,  the  universal  depravity  of  human- 
kind at  large,  imprints  upon  all  visages 
and  all  figures  alike  a  sinister  expres- 
sion, the  mark  of  that  all-pervading  in- 
stinct of  perversity  which,  in  the  words 
of  Poe,  is  to  be  read  in  capital  letters  on 
all  faces.  The  artist  found  this  lugu- 
brious text  interesting  enough  to  absorb 

82 


FELICIEN  ROPS 


him.  He  has,  says  Eugene  Demolder, 
stripped  away  the  mask.  He  has  revealed 
his  century  with  the  same  intensity  as 
Memling,  Durer,  and  Jan  Steen.  De- 
molder  thinks  that  Rops  was  strongly 
influenced  in  his  youth  by  Gavarni,  but 
his  Flemish  blood  tells  in  the  direction 
of  his  robustness,  wherein  he  is  a  true 
descendant  of  Rubens. 

"  Like  an  implacable  Darwin/'  writes 
Demolder,  "  he  has,  in  his  plates,  under 
the  white  wings  of  Woman,  so  much 
sung  by  the  poets,  rediscovered  the  hide- 
ous membranes  of  the  fossil  pterodac- 
tyles,  malevolent  flying  reptiles,  of  which 
Woman  is,  according  to  his  showing, 
the  normal  and  diabolical  zoological 
continuation/'  The  virtually  literal 
translation  of  this  pretty  sentence  gives 
a  just  idea  of  the  Ropsian  notion  on 
the  woman  question,  constantly  ex- 

83 


FELICIEN  ROPS 


emplified  in  his  pictorial  series  of  she- 
devils. 

To  turn  to  a  more  wholesome  phase 
of  Rops's  art,  his  political  and  religious 
satires,  we  find  that,  between  J856  and 
J86J,  he  produced  some  of  his  most 
powerful  lithographs  of  this  order,  in- 
cluding the  "Waterloo  Medal/'  "  Order 
reigns  at  Warsaw/'  "Chez  les  Trap- 
pistes/'  etc.,  besides  the  very  striking 
picture  of  the  "  Interment  in  the  Walloon 
Country/'  which  was  generally  taken  for 
a  lampoon  of  the  Catholics,  in  spite  of  the 
author's  disavowal  of  ulterior  significance. 

The  "Waterloo  Medal,"  one  of  the 
most  stinging  satires  on  the  Napoleonic 
ideal  of  military  glory  that  the  world  has 
seen,  is  a  large  lithograph.  At  the  time 
of  its  publication  this  terrible  piece  of 
symbolism  caused  intense  excitement. 
In  the  centre  of  the  design,  a  circular 

84 


FELICIEN  ROPS 


medal  in  white  is  relieved  against  a  dark 
ground*  It  bears  the  image  of  a  crippled 
veteran  wearing  the  bicorne.  The 
medal  is  upheld  by  three  emblematic 
female  figures.  At  the  left  the  draped 
figure  holding  in  her  hands  a  huge  pen 
and  a  scourge  evidently  typifies  History. 
She  is  rolling  up  her  sleeves,  and  wears 
a  threatening  expression.  At  the  right 
the  figure  half  draped  in  a  striped  gauze 
stuff  and  holding  a  pencil  represents 
Art.  Beneath  the  medal,  France,  typi- 
fied by  a  third  woman  bearing  a  tricolor 
flag  with  the  word  Patrie,  is  nude  to 
the  waist,  and  defends  the  flag  against 
the  attacks  of  many  skeleton-spectres, 
wearing  on  their  fleshless  skulls  the 
shakos  and  bearskin  caps  of  the  First 
Empire.  All  the  dark  background  is 
filled  by  a  multitude  of  skeletons  form- 
ing groups,  employed  in  capering,  fight- 

85 


FELIOEN  ROPS 


ing,  and  dancing  the  dance  of  death. 
Particularly  noticeable  is  a  mounted 
general  reviewing  his  ghostly  troops  at 
the  upper  right-hand  corner*  Near  the 
bottom  of  the  composition  is  a  tombstone 
bearing  the  inscription  "  Here  lies  Marco 
de  Saint-Hilaire."  In  the  lower  right 
corner  of  the  design  a  personage,  with 
his  back  toward  the  observer,  standing 
and  looking  through  a  field-glass,  is 
easily  recognizable  from  his  two-cornered 
hat  and  his  long  gray  overcoat. 

.  The  publication  of  this  lithograph 
was  the  cause  of  a  duel.  The  son  of 
an  ex-officer  of  the  French  army  gratui- 
tously found  in  it  a  personal  affront,  for 
which  he  demanded  satisfaction  on  the 
field  of  honor.  Rops  was  not  the  man 
to  refuse  this  invitation,  so  the  meeting 
took  place,  but,  like  the  majority  of 
modern  French  duels,  it  resulted  in  no 

86 


FELICIEN  ROPS 


great  harm  to  either  of  the  parties,  though 
both  were  slightly  wounded. 

Rops's  next  attack  was  directed  against 
the  oppressors  of  Poland.  In  the  litho- 
graph entitled  "Order  reigns  at  War- 
saw "  he  represented  a  corpse  flung  on 
the  ground,  symbolizing  the  martyred 
nation,  and  the  double-headed  eagle  soar- 
ing above  it,  typifying  the  tyrant  Russia. 
The  foreshortening  of  the  prostrate  figure 
of  Poland,  semi-nude,  reminded  some 
of  the  critics  of  the  celebrated  "Rue 
Transnonain  "  by  Daumier. 

The  lithograph  called  "Chez  les 
Trappistes"  was  a  sharp  thrust  at  the 
monks  of  that  order.  It  shows  a  group 
of  the  brethren  of  various  ages  standing 
before  a  big  reading-desk  and  looking 
over  a  book  which  lies  open  upon  it. 
One  of  the  elder  brothers  is  expounding 
the  text.  An  innocent  novice  listens 

87 


FELICIEN  ROPS 


and  looks,  with  open  mouth.  In  this 
group  the  artist  introduces  several  re- 
pulsive types  of  hypocrisy  and  brutal- 
ity. On  being  complimented  on  this 
work  by  a  prominent  member  of  the 
Liberal  party  in  Brussels,  Rops  retorted 
that  he  despised  equally  the  Liberals 
and  Catholics,  neither  of  which  parties 
had  the  courage  of  their  convictions, 

It  is  not  surprising  that  some  of  the 
Flemish  Catholics  should  have  found 
cause  for  wrath  in  the  "  Enterrement 
au  Pays  Wallon,"  which  is  one  of  Rops's 
most  powerful  lithographs.  In  a  little 
village  cemetery  a  poor  woman  has  just 
been  laid  away.  Her  grave  has  not 
yet  been  filled  up.  Standing  by  it  are 
her  husband  and  her  son,  a  small  boy ; 
and  around  the  spot  are  grouped  the 
priests  and  their  assistants.  At  the  left 
the  officiating  curate,  an  obese  man,  is 

88 


FELIOEN  ROPS 


reading  the  prayers  for  the  dead*  He 
is  flanked  by  his  vicars,  who  are  re- 
markable for  the  stupidity  and  indiffer- 
ence of  their  appearance.  At  the  right, 
by  the  side  of  a  woman  who  mumbles 
a  De  Profundis,  a  clerk  holds  up  the 
great  cross.  Behind  him  is  the  sacris- 
tan and  the  beadle  with  a  candle  in 
his  hand.  On  the  same  side  the  grave- 
digger  is  shovelling  earth  into  the  grave. 
At  the  extreme  left  a  choir-boy  threat- 
ens a  little  dog  with  his  holy-water 
sprinkler.  In  the  distance  at  the  left 
two  bearers  are  chatting  with  a  peasant 
woman.  The  horizon  is  closed  in  by  the 
cemetery  hedge.  The  solemnity  of  the 
subject,  the  variety  of  the  physiognomies, 
the  truth  of  expression,  of  attitudes,  of 
types,  and  the  desolate  character  of  the 
landscape,  —  all  contribute  to  the  impres- 
sive effect  of  the  design. 

89 


FELICIEN  ROPS 


The  father  and  son,  dressed  in  their 
Sunday  best,  are  striking  figures,  which, 
although  their  backs  alone  are  seen, 
reveal  by  the  movement  of  their  poses 
the  hopeless  and  pathetic  expressions  of 
their  faces.  In  the  heads  of  the  priests 
and  their  assistants  Rops  has  depicted, 
with  the  mastery  of  a  modern  Goya, 
an  eternal  type  of  peasant  character, 
robust  and  heavy,  tenacious  and  nar- 
row, shrewd  and  ignorant,  hard  and 
grasping.  Here,  bowed  down  by  the 
weight  of  so  much  ecclesiastical  pomp 
and  finery,  and  wearing  with  scant 
grace  the  brilliant  embroidered  silk  copes 
assumed  for  the  occasion,  they  grudge 
the  time  taken  from  their  rustic  labors. 
In  them  is  embodied  the  physical  and 
moral  character,  the  body,  soul,  and  life, 
of  the  peasantry. 


90 


BOUTET  DE  MONVEL 


BOUTET  DE  MONVEL 

MAURICE  BOUTET  DE  MON- 
VEL is  an  artist  of  deep  insight, 
of  keen  sensibility,  of  humor  and  intelli- 
gence. He  draws  with  all  the  perfec- 
tion and  conscience  of  Holbein,  and  his 
acquaintance  with  human  nature  is 
almost  as  intimate  as  that  of  Rem- 
brandt. A  fascinating  and  eloquent 
historian  and  story-teller,  he  makes  the 
past  live  again.  His  lively  and  delicate 
fancy  makes  him  the  best  living  illus- 
trator of  the  lives  and  doings  of  chil- 
dren. In  France  they  call  him  'Me 
peintre  qui  dessine,"  and,  indeed,  he 
draws  with  that  exactitude,  freedom, 
and  significance  of  line  that  suffices  to 
set  him  apart  on  an  eminence.  It  is 
pleasant  to  see  that  this  talent  is  united 
to  so  many  genial  qualities  of  mind  and 

93 


BOUTET  DE  MONVEL 


heart,  that  it  is  the  servant  of  admirable 
thoughts,  generous  enthusiasms,  and  not 
the  mere  magic  of  a  pictorial  prestidigi- 
tateur.  Boutet  de  Monvel  represents 
the  charm,  kindliness,  and  amiability  of 
the  French  character,  without  its  acer- 
bity and  egotism. 

The  series  of  pictures  illustrative  of 
the  life  of  Jeanne  d'Arc,  from  the  time 
of  her  first  hearing  of  the  voices  at 
Domremy  up  to  the  fiery  death  at  the 
stake  in  Rouen,  is  of  a  vital  and  poignant 
interest.  No  one,  whether  familiar  with 
the  story  or  not,  can  go  from  beginning 
to  end  of  the  series  without  a  vivid, 
deep,  and  lasting  impression  of  the  gran- 
deur, wonder,  and  pathos  of  that  historic 
drama;  and  it  is  equally  impossible  to 
look  at  the  successive  pages  of  the  thrill- 
ing story  without  being  stirred  to  enthu- 
siasm for  the  heroine.  She  appears  and 

94 


BOUTET  DE  MONVEL 


reappears,  always  the  same  person,  but 
constantly  manifesting  growth,  develop- 
ment, and  expansion,  mental,  moral,  and 
physical,  to  the  last  chapter.  Jeanne  is 
the  peasant  girl  of  Domremy  through- 
out the  story,  but  beneath  the  not  too 
refined  surface  of  her  personality  there 
is  a  great  soul,  ardent  and  indomitable, 
which  in  the  hour  of  emergency  flames 
forth  and  inspires  miracles  of  bravery* 
Picturesque,  romantic,  and  touching  epi- 
sodes abound.  The  pictures  of  combats 
are  extraordinary  for  the  expression 
of  the  individual  fury  and  stubborn- 
ness and  desperation  which  were  so 
much  more  an  element  of  victory  in 
those  days  than  now,  and  for  the  ex- 
pression of  all  the  magnificent. confusion 
and  turmoil  of  hand-to-hand  struggles. 
Nobility  and  dignity,  gentleness  and 
grace,  piety  and  humility,  in  turn  dis- 

95 


BOUTET  DE  MONVEL 


tinguish  the  Maid  of  Orleans,  but  in 
battle  she  is  the  very  spirit  of  War  in- 
carnate. When  she  recognizes  Charles 
VII.  at  the  castle  of  Chinon,  and  kneels 
to  invoke  the  blessing  of  God  upon  his 
life,  she  is  a  more  royal  figure  than 
any  in  that  court.  When  she  is  on 
her  way  to  the  stake  in  Rouen,  and 
begs  to  be  allowed  to  stop  and  pray 
at  the  door  of  a  church,  the  pathos  of 
the  very  lines  of  her  back  and  arms  is 
something  inconceivably  appealing.  In 
each  composition  we  search  out  the 
heroine,  knowing  that  she  will  be  the 
centre  of  all  interest,  wherever  situated, 
and  whatever  may  be  her  action. 

For  the  church  erected  to  the  memory 
of  Jeanne  d'Arc  in  Domremy,  Boutet 
de  Monvel  is  painting  a  series  of  six 
immense  panels,  and  the  first  one  of 

these  panels  represents  the  meeting  of 
96 


BOUTET  DE  MONVEL 


Jeanne  d'Arc  and  the  king.  She  had 
never  seen  him,  and,  in  order  to  de- 
ceive her,  he  wore  a  less  elegant  cos- 
tume than  his  courtiers,  but  in  spite  of 
this  disguise  she  recognized  him  at  the 
first  glance,  and  kneeling  before  him, 
said :  "  God  give  you  a  good  life, 
Dauphin/'  The  panel  is  brilliant.  The 
effect  of  the  rich  costumes  of  the  crowd 
of  courtiers  is  dazzling.  It  is  enhanced 
by  the  lavish  use  of  gold  in  the  bro- 
cades and  embroideries.  The  figures, 
which  are  life-size,  are  kept  quite  flat, 
and  the  only  relief  is  in  the  heads, 
which  present  a  most  interesting  and 
diversified  series  of  types,  each  with  its 
different  expression  of  curiosity,  disdain, 
incredulity,  or  amusement.  The  heavy 
features,  angular  anatomy  of  foreheads, 
cheeks  and  jaws,  and  materialistic  aspect 
of  the  majority  of  the  personages,  who, 

7  97 


BOUTET  DE  MONVEL 


decked  out  in  the  most  elaborate  and 
costly  raiment,  are  yet  so  devoid  of 
the  finer  indications  of  civilization,  —  all 
these  details  are  based  on  historical 
study  of  the  most  searching  and  ardu- 
ous nature,  and  have  an  incontrovert- 
ible foundation  in  the  portraiture  of  the 
period.  Art  then,  as  ever,  was  indis- 
creet, betrayed  what  the  great  ones  of 
the  earth  would  have  been  reluctant 
to  reveal  to  posterity,  could  they  have 
realized  what  they  were  and  how 
they  looked;  but,  belonging  to  a  cruel, 
ignoble,  and  hard-hearted  generation,  of 
course  they  could  not  see  themselves 
as  others  saw  them.  In  all  probability, 
they  were  especially  proud  of  their  worst 
traits. 

The  drawings  of  children  made  by 
Boutet  de  Monvel  for  juvenile  books 
are  marvels  of  naturalness.  In  them 

98 


BOUTET  DE  MONVEL 


are  seen  types  of  every  imaginable  sort 
of  youngster  under  the  sun  except  the 
type  of  precocity  and  pedantry.  They 
are  charming  because  they  are  so  human, 
genuine,  and  care-free.  The  present 
generation  of  French  children,  brought 
up  on  such  wholesome  and  exhilarating 
nursery  pictures  as  these,  may  well  be 
envied.  It  is  a  liberal  education  in 
draughtsmanship  to  live  in  an  atmos- 
phere of  such  illustrations.  Has  there 
ever  been  a  drawing  more  perfect  in 
its  way  than  "The  Fairy  Tale/'  in 
which  a  grandmother  sits  by  the  table 
and  tells  her  story  to  three  children? 
The  gesture  of  the  grandmother's  right 
hand;  the  look  of  absorption  in  the 
faces  of  the  three  auditors;  the  atmos- 
phere of  twilight  wonderland  that  takes 
the  spellbound  little  ones  out  of  them- 
selves,—  all  this  is  almost  a  miracle  of 

99 


BOUTET  DE  MONVEL 


expression.      Nothing    could   be  added 
to  it;  nothing  could  be  taken  from  it* 

Boutet  de  Monvel  has  painted  several 
remarkable  pictures  of  mermaids.  These 
creatures  are  not  stage  sirens,  neither  are 
they  myths ;  one  believes  firmly  in  their 
existence.  In  the  first  place,  they  are  in 
the  sea ;  the  element  in  which  they  live 
is  real  water;  the  flora  of  the  place  is 
submarine  to  a  most  slimy  degree,  and 
it  breathes  with  that  soft  aqueous  res- 
piration that  characterizes  the  things 
that  live  many  fathoms  below  the  sur- 
face of  the  sea.  The  forms  and  motions 
of  these  marine  women  are  unique. 
Boutet  de  Monvel  regards  a  single  tail 
as  an  illogical  termination  for  a  mermaid ; 
he  gives  his  mermaids  two  tails  each,  — 
or  perhaps  I  should  say  he  has  discov- 
ered this  to  be  the  real  form  of  the 
authentic  mermaid.  These  graceful 

JOO 


BOUTET  DE  MOIWEL 


creatures  sleep,  poised  like  birds  in  air ; 
they  glide  in  and  out  of  tremulous  jungles 
of  devil's  aprons ;  they  frolic  like  dolphins 
and  porpoises;  and  the  iridescence  of 
their  double  tails  shines  with  a  lambent 
glow  like  that  of  goldfish  and  the  pisca- 
torial incroyables  of  Bahaman  waters. 
Though  they  are  never  still,  their  mo- 
tion has  no  effort  in  it. 


10J 


WINSLOW  HOMER 


WINSLOW  HOMER 

TVTINSLOW  HOMER  is  an  abso- 
W  lutely  original  and  national  artist ; 
he  is  the  first  exponent  in  pictorial  art  of 
the  New  World.  He  presents  the  unique 
phenomenon  of  an  American  painter 
whose  work  has  in  it  not  the  least  scin- 
tilla or  hint  of  Europe  or  of  Asia.  Had 
he  never  seen  a  European  picture,  he 
would  not  paint  otherwise  than  as  he 
paints.  Europe  does  not  exist,  so  far  as 
his  art  is  concerned.  His  style  comports 
with  his  subjects:  out-of-doors  Ameri- 
cans, big,  rough,  sturdy,  and  true-hearted 
men,  sailors,  soldiers,  pioneers,  fishermen, 
farmers, "  in  their  habits  as  they  live,"  — 
the  stuff  out  of  which  the  nation  is  made. 
He  understands  them  as  thoroughly  as  if 
he  had  made  them.  He  presents  them 
in  their  integrity.  He  shows  them  con- 

J05 


WINSLOW  HOMER 


quering  the  elements,  heroic,  modest, 
grand,  unconscious.  In  a  setting  as 
vast  and  imposing  as  the  ocean  itself, 
or  the  primeval  forest,  he  places,  with 
nobility  and  simplicity,  the  continental 
American  type  of  manliness.  The  style 
with  which  he  draws  this  virile,  rude, 
and  clean-cut  historical  type  is  directness 
itself.  So  straight  does  it  go  to  the  mark, 
one  is  not  aware  there  is  any  such  thing 
as  style.  Art  conceals  art.  It  is  as 
easy  as  lying,  —  only,  it  never  lies. 

Magnificent  and  memorable  manifes- 
tations of  ordered  power  are  Winslow 
Homer's  epics  of  the  Atlantic  Ocean  in 
its  fury  of  storm.  There  he  is  at  home. 
Like  the  men  of  Viking  blood,  he  rises 
to  his  best  estate  in  the  stress  of  the 
hurricane.  Never,  since  art  was  born, 
did  any  painter  tell  such  thrilling  tales 
of  the  sea  and  of  those  who  go  down  to 

106 


WINSLOW  HOMER 


the  sea  in  ships*  Dull  indeed  must  be 
the  man  who  can  stand  in  front  of  his 
marine  masterpieces  without  a  quicken- 
ing pulse  and  a  fresh,  vivid  realization 
not  only  of  the  untamable  forces  of  the 
elements,  but  also  of  the  sublime  courage 
of  his  fellow-men.  He  stands  alone  in 
his  mastery  of  one  of  the  most  difficult 
of  themes,  the  ocean  in  action.  The 
grasp  of  reality  exhibited  in  his  works 
lifts  them  above  scientific  realism,  be- 
cause such  intensity  of  visual  impres- 
sions cannot  be  brought  about  without 
an  emotional  quickening ;  in  other  words, 
no  art  work  so  original  and  profound 
can  be  constructed  in  cold  blood  by 
means  of  the  exercise  of  the  mental 
faculty  alone.  Therefore,  he  is  much 
more  than  a  realist.  There  is  in  his 
work  romance,  imagination,  story ;  how 
else  could  he  be  the  inspired  interpreter 

107 


WINSLOW  HOMER 


of  the  ocean,  with  its  unlimited  stores 
of  drama,  heroic  story  and  wonder,  its 
world-wide  literature  of  human  hopes 
and  fears,  adventure,  ambition,  disaster, 
love  and  hate,  life  and  death  ?  Life  for 
him  is  full  of  romance  and  drama,  but 
he  does  not  have  to  conjure  up  any  pic- 
ture that  Nature  does  not  hold  up  before 
him,  for  every  scene  is  pregnant  with 
suggestions  of  life,  which  means  a  strug- 
gle. Man  in  his  grapple  with  the  ele- 
ments, using  his  courage,  endurance, 
ingenuity,  and  wisdom  against  the  blind 
forces  of  the  sea,  the  wilderness,  and 
the  continent,  —  such  is  his  material ; 
and  to  say  that  he  is  able  to  give  us 
some  sort  of  hint  of  its  greatness,  to  say, 
as  an  eminent  brother  artist  once  said  of 
him,  "he  can  represent  anything  that 
he  sees,"  is  going  very  far,  but  not 
too  far. 

108 


WINSLOW  HOMER 


The  isolation  of  Winslow  Homer  is 
entire.  One  may  watch  his  work  from 
season  to  season  without  being  able  to 
observe  in  it  any  trace  or  reflection 
of  what  other  painters  have  done  or 
thought.  His  peculiarity  extends  to 
every  detail  and  phase  of  his  style. 
Responding  to  his  temperament  per- 
fectly, his  style  is  the  complete,  fit,  and 
final  exterior  expression  of  his  intention. 
There  is  fate  in  it.  He  paints  as  he 
must.  Homer  relishes  wildness  with  a 
fierce  gusto.  He  is  a  solitary.  Let  him 
interpret  the  meaning  of  the  wind  and 
wave,  the  torrent  and  tempest,  and  these 
things  assume  all  their  own  power, 
splendor,  and  beauty.  Nothing  less 
than  the  titanic,  the  primitive,  and  the 
natural  will  do  for  him.  There  is  un- 
deniable grandeur  in  the  unbridled  rush 
and  fury  of  his  Northern  cascades; 

J09 


WINSLOW  HOMER 


breadth  and  force  in  his  suggestion  of 
the  swift  gliding  of  the  black  stream 
and  the  headlong  plunge  of  the  foaming 
rapids;  and  a  stupendous  feeling  of 
desolation  and  solitude  among  the 
tangled  thickets,  the  giant  trees,  and 
the  chaos  of  rocks  on  the  lonely  moun- 
tain-side. If  I  wished  to  show  a  for- 
eigner how  America  looks,  I  would  let 
him  see  a  collection  of  Winslow  Homer's 
pictures.  Other  painters  might  be  left 
to  bring  to  light  the  pretty,  graceful, 
and  tender  passages  of  landscape;  but 
he  alone  would  be  able  to  exhibit  the 
majesty,  the  sternness,  the  sublimity  of 
the  New  World,  its  vastness,  its  freedom, 
and  its  virgin  wildness. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  groups 
of  Homer's  pictures  was  that  composed 
of  the  water-colors  painted  on  the  coast 

of  England.    These  related  many  strik- 
no 


WINSLOW  HOMER 


ing  phases  of  the  sailors'  and  fishermen's 
lives*  "  The  Life  Brigade  "  was  full  of 
suggestion  of  the  rage  of  wind  and 
wave.  The  men  in  their  oilskins  and 
sou'westers  are  grouped  outside  the  life- 
saving  station*  on  a  level  bit  of  sand, 
which  terminates  at  the  top  of  a  sea- 
wall. Against  the  wall  the  tumultuous 
ocean  breaks  and  uptosses  huge  columns 
of  white  spray.  The  brave  fellows 
huddle  close  together  in  the  lee  of  the 
little  building,  and  gaze  intently  out  to 
sea.  where,  far  off.  a  mere  speck  is  visi- 
ble. —  a  vessel  in  distress.  The  attitudes 
of  the  men.  the  irresistible  movement  of 
the  billows,  the  flying  clouds  of  spray, 
the  penetrating  moisture  all  through  the 
atmosphere,  the  leaden  gray  of  the 
frowning  sky,  the  gleaming  reflections 
in  the  pools  in  the  foreground,  —  all  are 
expressed  with  a  decision,  a  strength, 
\\\ 


WINSLOW  HOMER 


a  vivid  actuality,  which  are  in  the  high- 
est degree  admirable.  "  The  Ship's 
Boat"  is  another  powerful  story  of 
wreck :  four  sailormen  are  being  driven 
on  to  a  lee  shore  of  the  most  inhospit- 
able description;  their  frail  craft  has 
been  capsized,  and  they  are  clinging  to 
its  bottom  and  sides,  submerged  to  their 
armpits  in  the  water.  A  monstrous 
wave  is  lifting  them  on  its  crest,  and  in 
another  moment  they  will  be  dashed 
upon  the  streaming  rocks.  The  water 
is  drawn  and  colored  with  signal  knowl- 
edge and  power.  Its  liquidity  and  trans- 
lucence,  the  countless  accidents  of  its 
surface,  the  rush  and  whirl  of  its  eddies, 
and,  above  all,  the  upheaving  power  of 
its  movement,  have  been  seized,  com- 
prehended, and  fixed  with  unsurpassed 
fidelity  and  breadth.  In  "  Tynemouth  " 

the  play  of  light  upon  the  surface  of  the 
112 


WINSLOW  HOMER 


sea  is  in  effect  so  complete  and  trium- 
phant a  counterfeit  of  nature  that  it  is 
but  little  short  of  astounding  to  observe 
the  simplicity  and  ease  of  the  means 
used*  In  "  Cannon  Rock  "  there  is  the 
same  remarkable  sense  of  form,  with 
the  dexterity,  rapidity,  and  supple  free- 
dom of  handling  which  leave  no  trace 
of  effort.  The  drawing  is  frank,  direct, 
confident;  every  stroke  tells;  there  is 
no  hesitancy,  no  evidence  of  painstak- 
ing ;  it  is  the  joyful  and  free  act  of  con- 
scious power,  as  a  strong  man  goeth 
to  run  a  race.  "One  Boat  Missing" 
represents  three  wives  of  fishermen 
scanning  the  horizon  from  the  high 
rocky  crown  of  a  bluff.  It  is  just  at  the 
close  of  a  storm,  for  the  sky  is  charged 
with  heavy  clouds  which  are  beginning 
to  break  away,  and  the  wind  still  blows, 
as  may  be  seen  by  the  fluttering  draper- 

8  113 


WINSLOW  HOMER 


ies  of  the  women,  who  gaze  anxiously 
seaward.  Two  of  them  are  sitting  on 
the  rocks;  the  third  stands  apart,  hold- 
ing a  child  in  her  arms.  The  arrange- 
ment is  original  and  beautiful ;  the  figures 
are  placed  in  the  landscape  with  a  sure 
perception  of  the  relative  importance  of 
each;  and  although  for  me  the  human 
interest  predominates,  the  background  is 
not  a  mere  stage  scene,  but  an  active 
element  in  the  drama. 

The  point  of  view  for  the  picture 
called  "  Storm-Beaten "  may  be  some 
projecting  rocks,  not  very  high  above 
high-water  mark,  on  which  the  waves 
tumble  with  a  magnificent  commotion. 
The  wave  which  is  just  breaking  comes 
obliquely  toward  the  spectator,  and  is 
still  unbroken  at  its  prolongation  toward 
the  right  of  the  composition.  Where 
it  has  met  the  first  obstacle,  there  is  a 

1J4 


WTNSLOW  HOMER 


concussion  which  makes  the  foundations 
of  the  ledge  quiver,  and  a  vertical  plume 
of  silvery  spray  shoots  high  in  the  air 
above  the  vortex  of  milky  foam  that 
overwhelms  the  point.  The  furious 
combat  of  wave  and  rock  assumes  such 
a  vivid  reality  in  this  painting  that  one 
familiar  with  similar  displays  of  natural 
forces  has  no  difficulty  in  imagining  the 
accompanying  sounds  which  constitute 
such  an  impressive  part  of  the  perform- 
ance, —  the  mingling  of  continuous 
noises,  sullen,  persistent,  murmurous, 
as  of  a  multitude  of  voices  sibilant  and 
mournful,  the  monotone  of  the  ocean, 
as  the  background  or  accompaniment  of 
the  crash,  the  roar,  the  weltering  out- 
burst of  liquid  tones,  the  sobbing  and 
the  laughter  of  the  surf  among  the  rocks. 
"Undertow"  depicts  the  rescue  of 
two  exhausted  swimmers  who  have 

115 


WINSLOW  HOMER 


been  carried  beyond  their  depth.  They 
are  women,  and  those  who  have  saved 
them  from  drowning  are  men.  A  sud- 
den cry  for  help  has  gone  up,  and  from 
among  the  bathers  in  the  surf,  two  have 
been  missing.  A  young  man  in  swim- 
ming trunks  and  a  fisherman  in  oilskin 
trousers  and  a  tattered  shirt  have  has- 
tened to  the  succor  of  the  helpless  pair. 
It  may  be  that  the  younger  woman  — 
she  in  the  blue  bathing  suit  —  was  the 
first  to  find  herself  in  actual  danger. 
Swept  from  her  footing,  a  sudden  panic 
seized  her,  she  screamed,  and  disappeared 
from  view.  Instantly  the  cool  and  cour- 
ageous woman  in  her  company,  paus- 
ing only  to  secure  a  life-line  about  her 
waist,  plunged  into  the  surf  and  went 
to  her  friend's  aid.  The  picture  shows 
how  the  brave  deed  has  been  crowned 
with  success.  The  heroine  could  not 

U6 


WINSLOW  HOMER 


avoid  the  drowning  clutch  of  her  friend, 
but  her  noble  work  has  been  consum- 
mated by  the  timely  help  of  the  two 
sturdy  swimmers  who  are  now  bodily 
lifting  herself  exhausted  and  the  rescued 
girl  moribund  to  the  shore.  Four  life- 
size  figures  form  the  group,  composed 
with  masterly  skill.  Beginning  at  the 
left  is  the  young  man  in  trunks,  who 
has  just  got  into  shallow  water,  and  is 
on  his  feet,  but  who  is  bracing  himself 
strongly  to  avoid  being  knocked  down 
by  the  next  coming  wave.  His  is  an 
athletic  figure.  He  raises  one  arm  to 
balance  himself,  and  with  the  other  half 
supports  and  half  hauls  along  the  inert 
form  of  the  heroine.  She  manifests 
every  symptom  of  exhaustion  from  her 
struggle,  but  her  eyes  are  still  partly 
open,  and  she  does  not  appear  to  have 
quite  lost  consciousness.  Not  so  the 

H7 


WINSLOW  HOMER 


other  female.  She  has  caught  her  com- 
panion about  the  waist  with  both  arms 
in  a  vise-like  grip,  and  is  completely 
insensible*  The  end  of  the  chain  of 
figures  is  composed  of  the  fisherman, 
who  holds  the  unconscious  girl  up  and 
helps  the  young  man  bear  the  couple 
toward  the  shore.  A  great  green 
wave  is  just  about  to  break  over  all 
four  actors  in  the  scene,  and  in  the  fore- 
ground is  the  seething  souvenir  of  a 
surge  that  went  before. 

A  masterpiece  of  moonlight  and  an 
inspired  poem  of  the  sea  is  "  A  Summer 
Night/*  The  subject  is  something  like 
this:  the  ocean,  at  night,  seen  from 
the  brow  of  a  high  cliff;  a  broad  and 
glittering  field  of  moonlight  reflected  on 
the  tossing  waters ;  the  shadowed  curve 
of  a  mighty  wave  about  to  fall  and 
break  upon  the  rocks;  on  the  brink  of 

113 


WINSLOW  HOMER 


the  cliff,  the  sombre  silhouette  of  a  group 
of  people  watching  the  surf ;  and  in  the 
foreground  two  stalwart  girls  waltzing 
in  the  moonlight.  The  blue,  purple, 
slate,  and  silver-gray  hues  of  the  night 
form  a  bold,  rich,  and  novel  harmony  in 
a  minor  key,  an  effect  of  splendid  and 
moving  majesty.  The  movement  of  the 
waves  is  indicated  by  the  broadest 
methods  known  to  the  painter's  art; 
that  is  to  say,  by  the  masterly  suggestion 
and  summary  characterization  of  the 
forms  momentarily  assumed  by  the  most 
mobile  of  elements,  the  play  of  light 
upon  those  forms,  and  all  the  accidents 
and  whims  of  what  seems  like  the  cha- 
otic acme  of  instability.  Under  the 
phantasmal  light  of  the  moon,  the  titanic 
lift  of  the  dark  billow  which  comes 
impending  to  Its  crashing  fall,  the  fan- 
tastic shape  of  its  crest  uplifted  against 

JJ9 


WINSLOW  HOMER 


the  lighted  expanse  of  glimmering  blue 
and  molten  silver  behind  it,  and  the 
swirling  hollow  weltering  in  its  front, 
are  full  of  the  expression  of  power, 
grandeur,  and  mystery.  The  group  of 
figures  is  a  well-composed,  flat,  dark 
mass  against  the  illuminated  sea;  and 
in  it  is  to  be  noted  the  rhythmic  effect 
of  a  repetition  of  slightly  varied  lines* 

"The  Lookout,"  belonging  to  the 
Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Boston,  also 
represents  night  on  the  sea.  A  sailor 
who  is  keeping  the  bow  watch  on  an 
Atlantic  liner  turns  his  head  toward  the 
bridge,  and  sings  out  the  hour,  with  the 
accompanying  report,  "All's  well!" 
Only  his  head  and  shoulders  are  visible. 
He  wears  a  sou'wester  and  oilskins. 
His  skin  is  bronzed  by  a  life  of  exposure 
to  the  weather,  and  in  the  dim  light  it 

looks  like  bronze,  indeed,  rather  than 
120 


WINSLOW  HOMER 


human  flesh.  His  mouth  is  open.  This 
man  is  not  at  all  idealized;  there  is 
something  almost  defiantly  homely  and 
rude  in  the  type.  Were  anything  of  the 
roughness  of  the  man  or  of  the  trade 
he  follows  extenuated,  the  work  would 
not  be  as  peculiarly  characteristic  of 
the  genius  of  Winslow  Homer  as  it 
undoubtedly  is.  It  is  a  stern  picture, 
and  the  impression  it  makes  is  of  pon- 
derous solemnity.  The  atmosphere  of 
it  is  strangely  unreal,  but  the  facts  are 
hard  and  real.  It  is  a  new  and  weird 
page  from  the  book  of  the  sailor's  life. 
In  this  canvas,  which  hints  at  so  much 
more  than  what  appears  on  its  face,  the 
painter  shows  that  he  has  imagination, 
and,  like  his  other  epic  of  the  ocean  life, 
44  Eight  Bells/'  it  resumes  within  itself  a 
whole  volume  of  inspired  commentary 
on  that  life. 

J2J 


WINSLOW  HOMER 


The  Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Boston, 
owns  another  painting  by  Winslow 
Homer,  representing  a  stalwart  fisher- 
man in  his  dory,  with  several  fine  halibut 
stowed  in  the  stern,  the  title  being, "  The 
Fog  Warning/'  The  sea  is  dark  in  the 
late  afternoon  light,  and  though  the  sky 
is  bright  aloft,  a  fog  bank  is  creeping 
over  the  Banks.  A  sail  is  visible  off  to 
the  right  at  a  great  distance,  and  the 
fisherman  rests  on  his  oars  for  a  moment 
to  turn  his  head  for  the  purpose  of  mak- 
ing out  whereaway  his  vessel  lies.  The 
bow  of  the  dory  lifts,  letting  us  see  its 
whole  shape,  as  the  stern  settles  toward 
us,  just  clear  of  a  seething  wave.  The 
drawing  of  the  wave  forms  is  remark- 
able for  its  breadth,  its  hint  of  boundless 
force  and  bulk;  the  cold  tone  and  the 
sharp  outlines  characterize  a  phase  of 

marine  scenery  that  is  dismal  and  por- 
122 


WINSLOW  HOMER 


lentous,  but  wholly  true.  There  are 
times  when  the  sea  looks  as  hard  and 
cruel  as  it  does  in  this  picture.  The 
work  speaks  of  peril  for  the  man,  but 
not  of  fear;  the  Gloucester  fishermen 
live  tete-a-tete  with  Death,  and  danger 
seldom  troubles  them. 

Against  the  strange,  wild,  and  stu- 
pendous background  of  the  Northern 
forests  Winslow  Homer  projects  the 
virile  and  sinewy  figures  of  the  hardy 
outdoor  type  of  fearless  hunters,  guides, 
and  woodsmen.  We  have  seen  his 
sailors  braving  the  rage  of  the  stormy 
seas;  now  we  see  the  descendants  of 
Leatherstocking  at  their  work.  Homer 
shows  them  as  they  paddle  their  canoes, 
swift,  silent,  over  the  dark,  deep  lakes 
and  through  the  boiling  rapids ;  as  they 
stalk  the  timid  deer  among  the  tangled 
brush  and  the  ravines  of  the  mountain- 

123 


WINSLOW  HOMER 


side ;  as  they  play  the  agile  trout  in  the 
velvety  black  pool  under  the  dense 
shadows  of  the  pines  overhead ;  as  they 
glide  back  to  camp  in  the  twilight,  the 
fire  shining  like  a  beacon  from  the 
wooded  shore;  as  they  wake  to  see 
the  banks  of  the  morning  mist  rising 
from  the  lake  and  uncurtaining  the 
splendid  panorama  of  far  blue  mountains 
looming  under  the  moving  pageantry  of 
the  clouds*  This  work  has  a  savor 
which  is  as  pungent,  balsamic,  rarefied, 
and  bracing  as  the  atmosphere  of  the 
Northern  forests  themselves.  Like  them 
it  is  a  little  rough,  but  so  strong,  so  true,  so 
genuine,  that  one  dares  not  wish  for  any 
change  in  it,  lest  some  of  that  strength, 
truth,  and  genuineness  might  be  evapo- 
rated in  the  process.  And,  let  me  say 
once  more,  it  is  so  delightfully,  sponta- 
neously, and  largely  American !  Europe 

124 


WINSLOW  HOMER 


has  nothing  like  this  art.  In  these 
scenes  one  breathes  an  atmosphere 
which  moves  over  virgin  forests,  looks 
up  to  a  sky  which  bends  over  no 
other  continent  but  North  America.  A 
great  feeling  of  freedom  and  bigness,  of 
wide  spaces  and  wide  opportunity,  of 
youth  and  hope  and  bounding  life,  per- 
meates Winslow  Homer's  landscapes 
and  shines  from  the  silvery  rifts  in  his 
wind-swept  skies. 


J25 


ST.  GAUDENS'S  SHAW 
MONUMENT 


ST.  GAUDENS'S  SHAW 
MONUMENT 

happy  conjunction  of  a  fine  stir- 
ring  motive  and  a  great  artist  — 
for  the  world  has  made  no  mistake  in  its 
estimate  of  Augustus  St.  Gaudens  — 
has  resulted  in  a  masterpiece  of  which 
Boston  will  always  be  proud.  The  sub- 
ject was  one  fit  to  inspire  the  highest 
and  best  art.  It  called  imperatively  upon 
the  artist  for  a  heroic  expression  of  mili- 
tary valor,  of  moral  courage,  of  manhood 
in  its  grandest  and  noblest  aspect.  It 
appealed  to  all  the  best  sentiments  of 
chivalry,  of  patriotism,  and  of  national 
pride.  It  awoke  those  undying  memo- 
ries of  sorrow  and  glory  which  dwell  in 
the  hearts  of  all  Americans  who  are  old 
enough  to  recall  the  Civil  War.  To  say 
that  the  genius  of  the  sculptor  was  equal 

9  129 


ST.  GAUDENS'S  SHAW  MONUMENT 

to  the  great  theme  is  no  mere  idle  phrase 
of  eulogy,  nor  are  such  words  to  be 
written  lightly*  The  conviction  that  on 
Beacon  Hill  was  unveiled  in  J898  one  of 
the  world's  few  best  modern  works  of 
sculpture,  is  not  to  be  resisted.  That 
this  noble,  beautiful,  epic  work  is  erected 
to  commemorate  the  modest  but  worthy 
part  taken  in  the  war  for  the  Union  by 
Colonel  Robert  Gould  Shaw  and  the 
officers  and  men  of  the  Fifty-fourth 
Massachusetts  Regiment,  is  accurate  as 
far  as  it  goes,  but  this  is  not  all.  The 
true  instinct  of  the  artist  has  shaped 
every  line  in  his  bronze  to  a  typical  and 
representative  meaning,  so  that  instead 
of  being  a  memorial  of  one  hero  and  his 
regiment  alone,  it  assumes  a  national 
scope  and  significance,  and  becomes  in  a 
sense  a  monument  to  all  like  heroes  and 
all  kindred  regiments, —  a  widening  of 

130 


ST.  GAUDENS'S  SHAW  MONUMENT 

its  purport  and  moral  which  confers 
upon  it  a  vastly  enhanced  historical  char- 
acter. This  could  be  done  only  because 
Shaw  was  a  national  type  of  the  Ameri- 
can hero,  and  his  men  were  types  of  the 
unpretentious,  self-sacrificing  bravery  and 
devotion  of  the  colored  volunteers.  For, 
while  this  broadening  of  the  spirit  of  the 
memorial  does  not  make  it  a  less  touch- 
ing record  of  the  heroism  of  Shaw  and 
his  troops  as  individuals,  it  does  make  it 
a  greater  historical  monument. 

It  is  a  matter  for  special  gratification 
that  the  monument  should  be  a  Civil  War 
monument,  so  deplorably  wide  has  been 
the  chasm  of  discrepancy  yawning  be- 
tween the  subject  itself  and  the  well- 
meant  but  inadequate  efforts  to  give  it 
plastic  expression.  From  this  high  relief 
of  St.  Gaudens  there  comes  at  last  a  genu- 
ine exhalation  of  the  magnificent,  colossal 


ST.  GAUDENS'S  SHAW  MONUMENT 

tragedy,  the  mingled  splendor  and  horror, 
the  pageantry  and  squalor,  the  thrilling 
romance  and  the  unspeakable  brutality, 
of  the  war  of  the  Rebellion,  The  so- 
briety of  the  art,  its  deep  seriousness, 
befits  the  solemnity,  the  historic  dignity, 
of  the  motive. 

For  the  first  obvious  quality  of  the 
style  of  the  work  is  its  genuineness.  It 
is  not  realistic,  but  it  is  real;  it  is  not 
naturalistic,  but  natural.  This  simple, 
almost  homely,  racy  quality  of  actuality 
is  deep-rooted,  staying,  robust,  and  vivid. 
It  gives  style  without  the  conscious  in- 
tention of  style ;  it  is  the  style  which  is 
inherent,  not  a  veneer,  not  a  graft,  but 
the  inevitable  grace  and  beauty  of  form 
which  is  the  efflorescence  of  the  grace 
and  beauty  of  the  thought.  Need  it  be 
said  that  this  is  the  universal  character- 
istic of  great  works  of  art  ?  This  it  is 

J32 


ST.  GAUDENS'S  SHAW  MONUMENT 

which  makes  them  seem  so  much  more 
like  spontaneous  growths  than  the  re- 
sults of  toil  and  effort  and  study.  This 
ingrained  genuineness,  this  mediaeval 
earnestness,  this  perfect  absorption  of 
the  artist  in  his  art,  relates  the  Shaw 
bronze  to  the  divine  plastic  beauties  of 
Antiquity  and  the  Renaissance  by  a  con- 
sanguinity closer  than  any  similarity  of 
exterior  forms.  So  we  come  back,  after 
all  the  subtleties  of  criticism,  to  the  simple 
old  test  of  nature.  The  verdict  of  the 
crowd  and  the  verdict  of  the  amateur 
are  at  one  when  art  most  closely  inter- 
prets the  truth  of  nature;  and  if  this 
truth,  in  its  higher  and  larger  essentials, 
be  not  recognizable,  there  is  no  standard 
for  the  arts.  The  higher  and  the  larger 
essentials  are  those  traits  which  are  to  be 
interpreted  only  through  love,  sympathy, 
inspiration ;  "  not  of  the  letter,  but  of  the 

133 


ST.  GAUDENS'S  SHAW  MONUMENT 

spirit ;  for  the  letter  killeth,  but  the  spirit 
giveth  life*" 

The  positive  qualities  mentioned  imply 
what  the  negative  qualities  must  be. 
Distinction  implies  the  absence  of  vul- 
garity ;  nobility,  the  absence  of  all  that 
is  mean.  The  figure  of  Shaw  is  dis- 
tinctly noble  in  bearing,  and.  without  a 
shadow  or  hint  of  bravado,  carries  out 
the  most  irreproachable  ideal  of  chivalry 
and  manhood.  His  level,  calm  gaze  is 
set  forward,  unwavering,  as  if  he  saw  to 
the  very  end  and  climax  of  his  life,  and 
still  rode  onward  as  steadily  as  Fate  to 
meet  it  at  the  appointed  hour.  This 
youthful,  erect,  soldierly  figure,  which 
sits  so  well  on  the  ardent  war  horse, 
controls  without  effort  his  impetuosity, 
and,  in  spite  of  its  almost  boyish  imma- 
turity, seems  born  to  command,  is  so 
fine  and  virile  a  type  of  American  hero- 

134 


ST.  GAUDENS'S  SHAW  MONUMENT 

ism  that  one  cannot  think  of  it,  still  less 
look  upon  it,  without  a  quickening  of  the 
pulse  and  a  thrill  of  pride  and  grief,  not 
alone  for  -  Shaw,  indeed,  but  for  the 
thousands  who,  like  him,  in  the  flush 
of  their  youth,  and  with  an  equal 
modesty  and  fortitude,  responded  to  the 
call  of  the  nation  and  laid  down  their 
lives  joyfully  upon  the  sacred  altar  of 
patriotism* 

And  the  black  rank  and  file!  With 
what  a  wonderful  sense  of  human  pathos, 
of  fateful  forward  movement,  with  what 
wave-like,  rhythmic  momentum,  as  of 
marching  legions  tramping  southward, 
with  what  a  suggestion  of  the  slow  but 
irresistible  grinding  of  the  mills  of  God, 
has  the  artist  clothed  these  humble, 
united,  obedient,  devoted,  doomed  men! 
Are  they  not  exalted  by  this  deep,  seri- 
ous art  to  a  plane  of  Egyptian  dignity  ? 

135 


ST.  GAUDENS'S  SHAW  MONUMENT 

Does  not  the  martyrdom  which  over- 
hangs them  ennoble  them?  Unutter- 
able sadness,  sublime  resignation,  and 
an  invincible  determination  is  visible  in 
all  these  set  countenances,  all  facing 
the  same  way,  all  looking  toward  the 
South,  all  intent  on  a  great  final  busi- 
ness and  a  glorious  death.  The  im- 
pression is  not  so  much  that  of  a  group 
of  individuals  as  of  a  whole  army,  a 
vast,  endless,  countless  host,  moving  like 
a  huge  human  tide,  hardly  of  its  own 
volition,  unhasting  but  not  to  be  stayed 
short  of  the  goal,  a  mere  complex  instru- 
ment in  the  hands  of  Providence,  rolling 
on  like  a  mighty  flood. 

The  scale  of  the  figures  is  a  little  less 
than  that  of  life,  and  the  relief  is  so  high 
that  the  figures  of  the  commander  and 
his  horse  stand  out,  all  but  detached 
from  the  background,  wanting  but  a 

136 


ST.  GAUDENS'S  SHAW  MONUMENT 

slight  increase  in  thickness  to  be  entirely 
"in  the  round/*  Even  the  private  sol- 
diers are  in  such  high  relief  that  each  file 
of  marching  men  has  a  projection  of  over 
a  foot  from  the  deepest  part  of  the 
ground.  There  is  consequently  a  no- 
ticeable falsification  of  perspective  if  the 
point  of  view  be  taken  up  at  an  oblique 
angle,  and  the  best  standpoint  from 
which  to  get  a  satisfactory  effect  is 
directly  in  front  of  the  middle  of  the 
bronze,  not  more  than  twenty  or  thirty 
feet  from  the  monument.  So  viewed, 
the  group  is  most  remarkable  for  its 
pictorial  completeness,  its  movement, 
and  its  dramatic  dignity.  "To  rise  so 
high,  yet  to  remain  so  still,  so  temper- 
ate/' —  these  words  of  a  great  critic  are 
particularly  applicable  to  the  relief.  The 
originality  of  it  sets  it  apart  not  only 
from  the  works  of  other  individuals,  but 

J37 


ST.  GAUDENS'S  SHAW  MONUMENT 

also  from  all  the  schools  of  sculpture. 
It  is  too  real  and  too  modern  to  be 
classified  as  either  classic  or  romantic ;  it 
is  neither  Greek,  nor  Italian,  nor  French, 
It  has  so  little  of  a  foreign  air  that  the 
powerful  traditions  of  the  art  of  sculpture 
might  be  said  to  have  existed  only  as 
abstract  principles,  to  be  fused  into  new 
and  unheard  of  forms  by  the  heat  of  the 
artist's  creative  passion. 

The  artistic  propriety  of  the  introduc- 
tion of  the  floating  symbolic  figure, — 
whether  of  Victory,  Fame,  or  Patriotism, 
—  hovering  over  the  hero's  head,  is  not 
to  be  questioned.  The  idea  seems  per- 
fectly appropriate,  and  the  form  it  has 
taken,  somewhat  vague  in  comparison 
with  those  of  the  soldiers,  is  quite  as  it 
should  be,  the  distinction  in  the  manner 
of  its  modelling  marking  the  mystical  as 

contrasted  with  the  actual,  and  stimulat- 
es 


ST.  GAUDENS'S  SHAW  MONUMENT 

ing  without  fully  satisfying  the  imagina- 
tion. Such  an  opposition  of  the  real  and 
the  ideal  in  pictorial  art  is  not  by  any 
means  unknown,  and,  given  the  due 
elevation  of  style  and  the  due  poetical 
feeling  to  carry  out  the  contrast  effec- 
tively and  without  violence,  the  antithesis 
is  susceptible  of  being  employed  with 
extraordinary  impressiveness.  In  this 
instance  the  apparition  of  a  celestial  Gen- 
ius of  Patriotism,  guiding  the  hero  along 
the  paths  of  duty  and  inspiring  his  soul 
with  courage  and  zeal,  no  more  shocks 
the  sense  of  fitness  than  the  supernatural 
figures  in  Rembrandt's  pictures.  In 
other  words,  what  would  be  either 
wearisome,  conventional  allegory  or  a 
ludicrous  parody  of  the  grand  style  in  a 
commonplace  work  of  monumental  art 
here  takes  its  place  naturally  and  without 
a  jarring  note,  and,  what  is  more  to  the 

J39 


ST.  GAUDENS'S  SHAW  MONUMENT 

purpose,  really  gives  the  coup-de-maitre  to 
the  design  by  spiritualizing  it,  lifting  it  off 
the  ground, as  it  were,  and  giving  it  wings. 
The  memorial  is  as  unique  in  its  arch- 
itectural form,  and  as  pure,  as  in  its 
sculptural.  The  architect,  Charles  F. 
McKim,  has  worked  in  complete  sym- 
pathy with  the  sculptor,  and  has  given 
his  bronze  a  frame  and  setting  worthy 
of  it,  —  how  can  one  say  more  ?  The 
conception  of  the  terrace  form  was  sin- 
gularly felicitous,  and,  now  that  it  is 
realized,  seems  to  have  been  the  only, 
the  imperative  solution  of  the  problem. 
I  know  of  no  monument  so  fitly,  so 
ideally  placed.  The  noble  trees  em- 
braced by  the  structure  shelter  and  shade 
it,  and  seem  a  part  of  the  scheme.  The 
background,  Common-wards,  is  of  a  mass 
of  verdant  foliage.  At  all  points  the  stone- 
work of  Knoxville  pink  marble,  set  upon 

J40 


ST.  GAUDENS'S  SHAW  MONUMENT 

a  base  of  Milford  pink  granite,  is  enriched 
by  well-chosen  and  eloquent  inscriptions 
carved  in  Roman  capitals,  which  form 
the  best  of  ornamental  arabesques,  sup- 
ported here  and  there  by  wreaths  of  bay 
and  well-cut  mouldings,  by  eagles  and 
urns,  used  with  the  irreproachable  taste, 
and  in  the  correct  scale  of  size,  which  we 
have  a  right  to  expect  of  the  architect  of 
the  Public  Library*  The  stone  benches, 
the  steps  leading  from  the  mall  to  the 
level  of  the  street  above,  the  gracefully 
designed  balustrade,  and  the  lions'  heads 
which  serve  as  fountain  spouts  for  the 
basin  set  at  the  base  of  the  edifice  on  the 
mall,  are  all  pleasing  and  well-executed 
accessories,  so  that  there  is  no  uninter- 
esting nor  ugly  side  of  the  structure,  which 
is  good  on  all  sides  and  all  the  way 
through. 


J4J 


GEORGE  INNESS'S  LAND- 
SCAPES 


GEORGE   INNESS'S 
LANDSCAPES 

f^EORGE  INNESS'S  landscapes  are 
vJ  of  the  best  painted  in  our  time  and 
country,  in  many  instances  of  the  best  in 
any  time  and  country,  because  of  the 
qualities  of  temperament  with  which  the 
artist  was  endowed;  and  as  it  is  these 
qualities  of  temperament,  revealed  in  the 
work,  which  mark  the  productions  of  all 
great  artists  and  set  them  apart  from 
the  commonplace,  the  mediocre,  and  the 
merely  clever,  it  is  proper  to  inquire, 
with  a  view  of  obtaining  so  much  of  an 
insight  as  may  be  possible  into  the  make- 
up of  what  we  call  genius,  what  were 
these  innate  qualities,  the  sources  whence 
sprung  so  much  that  was  new  and  fine 
and  powerful  and  grand  ? 

JO  145 


GEORGE  INNESS'S  LANDSCAPES 

Undoubtedly  such  an  inquiry  involves 
something  of  a  study  not  only  of  Inness's 
own  characteristics  as  an  artist,  but  also 
of  the  universal  attributes  of  the  artistic 
temperament.  The  great  human  reser- 
voirs, from  which  the  world  draws  its 
masterpieces  of  art  as  thoughtlessly  as  it 
draws  a  cup  of  water  from  a  faucet,  are 
fed  by  many  subterranean  springs  which 
flow  spontaneously,  freely,  irresistibly, 
always  giving,  joyous  to  be  giving,  with- 
out price,  but  not  without  terrible  cost  to 
the  giver.  These  springs  are  the  vital 
elements  of  human  heart  and  brain, 
transmuted  into  material  forms  and  hues 
of  imperishable  beauty  by  the  miracle  of 
creative  passion.  The  mainspring  of  a 
great  art  is  the  master  passion  of  love,  the 
power  of  exaltation,  the  susceptibility  to 
a  great  and  uplifting  emotion,  a  divine 

flight  of  the  soul. 

J46 


GEORGE  INNESS'S  LANDSCAPES 

To  be  a  landscape  painter  of  the 
George  Inness  stamp  means  the  posses- 
sion of  a  ^sensitiveness  almost  morbid,  of 
a  power  of  vision  extra-natural,  of  a  sus- 
ceptibility to  certain  phases  of  the  earth's 
beauty  so  keen  as  to  nearly  elevate  that 
beauty  to  a  celestial  plane;  it  means  that 
seeing  is  a  pleasure  so  rapturous  that  it 
borders  upon  pain ;  it  means  to  be  pos- 
sessed by  a  ruling  passion  that  leaves  no 
room  for  any  other  interest,  pursuit,  or 
theme  under  the  sun;  it  means  that 
sickness,  afflictions,  poverty,  hardships, 
reverses,  disappointments,  are  as  noth- 
ing weighed  in  the  balance  against  art ; 
it  means  the  daily  possibilities  of  the 
pageant  of  sunrise,  of  high  noon,  of 
sunset,  of  evening,  glorious  beyond 
all  description,  filling  the  heart,  filling 
the  cup  of  life  to  overflowing,  leaving 
only  one  supreme  desire,  —  to  paint 

J47 


GEORGE  INNESS'S  LANDSCAPES 

it  all,  as  it  is,  to  paint  it,  and  then 
die. 

Oh,  what  a  paltry  ambition !  says 
the  statesman.  What  a  vain  dreamer  ! 
says  the  soldier.  What  a  useless  ca- 
reer !  exclaims  the  sailor.  Don't  under- 
stand such  a  man!  admits  the  broker. 

But  fame  redresses  all,  justifies  the 
ambition  by  the  achievement,  makes  the 
dream  yield  golden  revenues,  proves 
the  usefulness  of  the  artistic  career,  and 
rebukes  the  broker's  limitations.  It  is 
pleasant  to  remember  that  in  Inness's 
case  fame  was  less  tardy  than  in  so 
many  instances  with  which  the  history 
of  modern  art  has  made  us  familiar, 
such  as  those  of  Millet,  Corot,  and 
other  great  painters  of  the  Nineteenth 
Century,  and  that  his  later  years 
were  made  serene  and  smooth  for  him 
by  the  recognition  and  encouragement 

148 


GEORGE  INNESS'S  LANDSCAPES 

which  are  so  dear  to  the  heart  of  every 
artist. 

For  the  last  twenty  years  it  has 
been  generally  agreed  that  no  landscape 
painter  on  either  side  of  the  Atlantic 
excelled  George  Inness,  and  it  is  the 
judgment  of  many  good  critics  that  he 
left  no  peer  in  his  art.  Probably  there 
was  no  landscape  painter  living  in 
J894,  when  Inness  died,  whose  works, 
if  brought  together,  could  have  endured 
the  test  of  comparison  with  a  represen- 
tative collection  of  Inness's  pictures, — 
none  who  could  equal  him  in  the  im- 
pression he  gives  of  abounding  and 
intense  vitality.  For  there  is  in  all  his 
characteristic  works  a  rich,  full,  puls- 
ing life,  which  testifies  to  his  wonder- 
ful power  of  infusing  his  own  exuberant 
spirit  into  the  inanimate  canvas  and 
pigments,  and  making  them  breathe  the 

J49 


GEORGE  INNESS'S  LANDSCAPES 

very  breath  of  nature.  Thus  in  an  ex- 
ceptionally emphatic  sense  his  works 
live  after  him.  So  long  as  they  resist 
the  ravages  of  time,  an  Inness  stands 
for  a  living  embodiment  of  nature,  in 
which  the  sun  shines  with  a  true  and 
genial  warmth,  the  breeze  whispers 
amongst  the  leaves,  the  clouds  float 
buoyantly  aloft  or  lower  over  the  earth 
with  grim  menace  of  coming  tempest, 
and  all  is  movement,  animation,  and 
life. 


150 


JOHN  LA  FAROE 


JOHN  LA  FAROE 

REAT  as  is  John  La  Farge's  repu- 
tation,  at  home  and  abroad,  it 
has  not  yet  become  commensurate  with 
his  achievements;  and  as  time  brings 
about  a  wider  knowledge  of  art  and  a 
commoner  love  of  it,  as  the  years  to 
come  afford  opportunities  for  study  and 
comparison,  his  fame  must  grow.  In 
every  material  with  which  he  works 
he  has  performed  prodigies  which  are 
unequalled  in  modern  art  and  which 
recall  the  glory  of  the  fifteenth-century 
Venetians.  A  great  colorist  is  capable 
of  moving  the  springs  of  joy  and  sorrow, 
expressing  all  the  emotions  of  the  hu- 
man soul,  by  one  of  the  subtilest  of  all 
mediums.  Color  is  La  Farge's  sole 
instrument;  on  it  he  plays  new  airs, 
improvises  the  most  intoxicating  songs. 

J53 


JOHN  LA  FAROE 


His  touch  is  magic*  Those  who  come 
under  the  spell  remain  the  willing  cap- 
tives of  his  necromancy.  There  have 
been  other  colorists,  but  they  were  not 
like  La  Farge,  and  he  is  not  like  them. 
No  one  can  say  La  Farge  is  like  this, 
that,  or  the  other  Old  Master.  He  is 
the  New  Master,  and  he  is  unique. 

La  Farge  lifts  one  up  into  a  rarefied 
and  bracing  atmosphere,  filling  the 
senses  and  the  mind  with  celestial  pabu- 
lum, and  bearing  one  in  a  moment,  on 
the  viewless  wings  of  Poesy,  to  the 
happy  isles  of  the  South  Pacific,  that 
earthly  paradise  where  sea  and  land 
are  leagued  in  perpetual  beauty,  —  place 
of  places  for  the  artist,  the  country 
where  the  soul  of  the  poet  and  painter 
feels  itself  truly  at  home.  In  his  dis- 
covery of  the  wonders  of  these  en- 
chanted islands  he  has  opened  up  for 

154 


JOHN  LA  FAROE 


mankind  an  inexhaustible  mine  of  sin- 
gular delight.  From  the  hour  when  he 
began  to  send  us  his  water-colors  of 
Hawaii,  Samoa,  Fiji,  Tahiti,  and  the 
rest  of  Oceanica,  he  revealed  to  the 
northern  world  a  new  and  unspeakably 
rich  province  of  almost  paradisaic  charm. 
To  a  man  of  La  Farge's  temperament 
the  tropics  were  needed  as  a  comple- 
ment; they  must  have  awakened  in 
his  blood  inspirations  that  had  been 
dormant ;  his  sensitive  soul  could  spread 
its  wings  and  fly  aloft  in  the  atmos- 
phere of  Upolu.  So  it  is  a  happy  cir- 
cumstance that  he  found  his  way  there. 
The  islands  of  the  South  Pacific  became 
fuel  to  feed  the  fires  of  his  genius,  and 
he  became  their  most  sympathetic  and 
eloquent  interpreter.  How  spontaneous 
and  irresistible  then  were  his  bursts  of 
summer  song,  tender,  strong,  unlike 

J55 


JOHN  LA  FAROE 


all  others!  With  what  power,  ease, 
and  joy  he  set  before  our  eyes  the 
opalescent  splendors  of  that  strange  and 
romantic  island  kingdom  set  in  the 
midst  of  jewelled  seasl  Here  were 
islets  so  ineffably  delicate  and  fragile 
that  they  were  more  like  golden  dreams 
of  the  tropics  than  realities;  and  there 
were  majestic  empurpled  mountains 
towering  to  the  skies,  their  fantastic 
volcanic  peaks  caressed  by  the  light 
that  never  was  on  sea  or  land,  the 
consecration,  and  the  poet's  dream ! 
How  fascinating  he  makes  the  slow, 
rhythmic  swing  of  the  tufted  palm-tree 
in  the  trade  wind,  the  liquid  throb  of 
the  far  surf  beating  on  the  coral  reefs, 
the  gurgling,  splashing,  frolicking  of  the 
cascades  slipping  from  the  moss-covered 
rocks  into  their  verdant  shadowy  pools 
below !  As  charming  in  style  and  in- 

156 


JOHN  LA  FAROE 


dividuality  as  they  are  in  color  and 
atmosphere,  these  South  Sea  landscapes 
are  permeated  with  the  choicest  poetry 
and  imagination ;  nothing  in  them  sug- 
gests a  task;  they  are  the  offspring  of 
a  sacred  love* 

The  melting  and  vaporous  stains  of 
rosy  dawns  wafted  across  the  tender 
bosom  of  the  sky  —  something  so  ethe- 
real and  evanescent  as  to  suggest  the 
tones  of  pearls  —  are  breathed  upon  the 
canvas  by  La  Farge  with  a  mastery  of 
the  greatest.  On  the  other  hand,  there 
is  no  painter  known  to  me  who  has  the 
power  of  taking  away  one's  breath  by 
such  resonant  bugle-blasts  of  color,  of 
making  each  particular  hair  to  stand  on 
end  "like  quills  upon  the  fretful  porcu- 
pine "  by  such  thrilling  diapasons  of 
color.  In  none  of  his  works  does  his 
genius  manifest  itself  with  a  purer  efful- 

J57 


JOHN  LA  FAROE 


gence,  in  none  does  his  inspiration  rise 
to  a  higher  plane  of  spiritual  power, 
than  in  his  best  stained-glass  windows. 
It  is  in  this  field  that  he  most  adequately 
says  his  word,  expresses  his  ideal,  his 
hope,  his  passion*  It  is  the  sole  medium 
in  which  he  finds  means  to  perform 
those  sublime  prodigies  in  color  which 
make  glad  the  heart  of  man.  His  ideas 
are  of  the  grand  order,  and,  in  glass,  he 
sets  them  forth  in  the  grand  style.  He 
makes  decorations  which  are  pictures, 
pictures  which  are  decorations ;  and  I  do 
not  believe  that  any  of  the  qualities 
belonging  to  either  picture  or  decoration 
are  at  odds  with  their  fellows.  Reality 
and  dream  blend,  fact  lives  in  fancy, 
truth  in  fiction,  and  the  masterpiece  is  a 
unit,  indivisible.  La  Farge  has  traits 
which  are  as  universal  as  air  and  light ; 
but  he  has  also  traits  which  were  born 

158 


JOHN  LA  FAROE 


with    him   and    which    will    die  with 
him. 

In  the  window  of  the  class  of  J859,  in 
Memorial  Hall,  Harvard,  Cornelia's 
famous  words,  "Haec  ornamenta  mea 
sunt,"  might  be  applied  to  the  radiant 
jewels  of  color  in  which  the  noble  story 
is  so  nobly  told.  But  I  think  that  there 
is  no  work  by  any  master  more  fully 
informed  by  the  religious  spirit  than  the 
Means  window  in  the  Mount  Vernon 
Church,  Boston.  Shall  I  dare  to  say 
that  it  is  worthy  of  the  immortal  passage 
from  the  Twenty-third  Psalm  upon 
which  it  is  based :  "  Yea,  though  I  walk 
through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of 
death,  I  will  fear  no  evil;  for  thou  art 
with  me;  thy  rod  and  thy  staff  they 
comfort  me  ? "  Here  is  a  welcome 
vision  of  faith  and  courage,  to  buoy  the 
thoughts  of  the  timid  above  the  darkness 

159 


JOHN  LA  FAROE 


of  that  dread  valley  where  the  bravest 
spirits  need  support  and  comfort*  And 
such  a  sublime  landscape,  hemmed 
in  by  the  deep  blue  mountainous  hori- 
zon, and  canopied  by  the  infinite  trans- 
parency of  the  sweet  sky,  is  celestial 
enough  for  the  Good  Shepherd  to 
walk  in. 

Every  land  pictured  by  La  Farge  is 
like  fairyland;  it  is  fairyland.  Strange 
gleams  issue  from  the  dark  waters  of 
lakes  which  lave  the  feet  of  azure  tropi- 
cal mountains.  Skies  quiver  with  the 
memory  of  exquisite  opalescent  sunsets. 
There  is  a  hush,  a  calm,  when  the 
fronds  of  tall  palms  droop  and  slum- 
ber, and  night  impends,  curtaining  the 
flame  of  plumage  and  blossom,  but 
bringing  new  spells  and  marvels  in  star, 
moon,  and  colored  darkness.  Every- 
where, first  and  last,  the  unwearying 

160 


JOHN  LA  FAROE 


search  for  expression,  the  lines,  con- 
tours, masses,  tints,  movements,  and 
contrasts  that  reveal  and  interpret  the 
inward  thought,  life,  character,  the  soul 
of  things* 


n 


JOHN  SARGENT'S  PORTRAITS 


JOHN  SARGENT'S 
PORTRAITS 


loan  exhibition  of  John  Sar- 
*  gent's  portraits  held  in  Copley 
Hall,  Boston,  in  J899,  produced  a 
state  of  aesthetic  intoxication.  The 
mere  sensuous  effect  of  so  much  beauty, 
grace,  and  power  was  overwhelming* 
Recollections  of  the  masterpieces  of  other 
painters  suffered  an  eclipse,  were  swept 
away,  as  it  were,  by  an  avalanche  of 
new  emotions  and  impressions.  The 
brilliant  men  were  outdone;  the  sober 
men  were  forgotten;  the  thinkers  were 
voted  dull;  and  the  romantic  artists 
seemed  for  the  moment  but  a  tinsel- 
garbed  lot  of  fakirs.  One's  whole  being 
was  (it  seemed)  influenced  anew  ;  the 
earth  rocked  beneath  one's  feet  ;  all  the 

165 


JOHN  SARGENT'S  PORTRAITS 

old  standards  of  art  were  annihilated; 
it  took  away  the  breath ! 

But  this  could  not  last*  The  forces 
that  sway  the  world  are  permanent,  not 
spasmodic.  Headache  is  the  sequel  of 
too  much  champagne.  After  a  while 
we  began  to  assert  our  prerogative  of 
asking  questions.  Reason  resumed  her 
tardy  reign,  and  one's  temperature  grad- 
ually fell  to  the  normal  point.  How 
John  Sargent's  name  will  stand  in  the 
history  of  painting  is  the  question  that 
presented  itself  all  too  promptly.  It  may 
be  that  it  is  not  time  to  settle  that  ques- 
tion, yet  there  are  certain  conclusions 
that  may  be  arrived  at  already,  which 
will  at  least  contribute  toward  the  final 
and  main  solution. 

Sargent  is  the  most  spirited,  dashing 
and  brilliant  of  portrait  painters.  The 
supreme  quality  of  his  style  is  its  ease 

166 


JOHN  SARGENT'S  PORTRAITS 

and  spontaneity.  He  has  attained  the 
acme  of  freshness,  so  that  his  works 
seem  to  have  the  morning  dew  upon 
them ;  they  exclude  the  idea  of  effort  or 
fatigue;  they  are  like  flowers  of  the 
incense-breathing  morn.  There  is  a 
newness  in  his  pictures  that  even  Time 
must  respect.  They  have  the  most 
delightful  thing  on  earth,  —  youth, 
4  When  a  work  seems  stamped  on  the 
canvas  by  a  blow/'  said  James  North- 
cote  to  William  Hazlitt,  "  you  are  taken 
by  surprise,  and  your  admiration  is  as 
instantaneous  and  electrical  as  the 
impulse  of  genius  which  has  caused  it." 
And,  continued  Northcote,  in  a  passage 
of  description  which  applies  to  Sargent 
as  truly  as  though  it  had  been  spoken  in 
reference  to  his  works,  "  I  have  seen  a 
whole-length  portrait  by  Velasquez  that 
seemed  done  while  the  colors  were  yet 

167 


JOHN  SARGENT'S  PORTRAITS 

wet ;  everything  was  touched  in,  as  it 
were,  by  a  wish;  there  was  such  a 
power  that  it  thrilled  through  your 
whole  frame,  and  you  felt  as  if  you  could 
take  up  the  brush  and  do  anything*  It 
is  this  sense  of  power  and  freedom 
which  delights  and  communicates  its 
own  inspiration,  just  as  the  opposite, 
drudgery  and  attention  to  details,  is 
painful  and  disheartening."  Nothing 
that  could  be  written  to-day  better  de- 
scribes the  predominant  characteristic  of 
Sargent's  works.  It  is  not  a  material 
and  external  quality  merely :  it  is  the 
supreme  quality  in  the  style,  and  verily 
the  style  is  the  man.  Painters  have 
always  set  an  immense  value  on  this 
quality,  and  not  without  reason.  It  has 
been  illustrated  most  superbly  by  Goya, 
Hals,  Tiepolo,  but  never  more  superbly 
than  by  Sargent.  He  is  more  nervous 

168 


JOHN  SARGENT'S  PORTRAITS 

than  any  of  his  forerunners,  consequently 
his  work  has  more  magnetism  and 
vibration.  The  intensity  of  his  sensi- 
bility is  almost  painful.  His  suscepti- 
bility sometimes  grazes  the  frontiers  of 
the  morbid.  In  the  legitimate  meaning 
of  the  word,  his  art  is  sensational. 

This  peculiarity  of  the  artist's  tempera- 
ment and  manner  should  prepare  us  for 
his  inequalities,  —  the  almost  universal 
concomitant  of  genius.  When  he  is 
happily  inspired  by  a  thoroughly  con- 
genial motive,  like  the  group  of  Mrs. 
Meyer  and  her  two  children,  the  ex- 
quisiteness,  delicacy,  refinement,  and 
loveliness  of  his  work  are  unspeakably 
and  unsurpassably  great.  It  has  the 
fragility  and  the  complexion  of  a  flower. 
When,  on  the  other  hand,  he  has  a 
subject  that  does  not  appeal  to  him,  he 
is  brutal,  and  he  cannot  help  it.  He 

J69 


JOHN  SARGENT'S  PORTRAITS 

does  not  know  how  to  dissimulate.  He 
ought  never  to  paint  men,  unless  it  be 
men  like  Mr.  Penrose,  the  architect,  or 
Mr.  Stevenson,  the  author.  Take  the 
Wertheimer  portrait,  for  instance,  —  was 
not  this  an  unkind  performance  ?  Most 
of  mankind  cannot  well  afford  to  have 
the  raw  truth  told  in  this  raw  way. 
Painters  are  not  exempted  from  the  law 
of  charity.  The  Wertheimer  is  incisive, 
pungent,  keen  as  a  rapier-thrust.  It  is 
text  and  commentary  at  once;  it  supplies 
its  own  footnotes.  But,  though  authen- 
tic history  may  be  written  in  this  way,  it 
is  hard  on  the  individual  victim. 

The  difference  between  the  old  master 
and  the  modern  painter  can  be  illustrated 
by  the  difference  between  Sargent's 
Wertheimer  and  Velasquez's  dwarf  and 
court  jester.  There  is  a  certain  coldness 
and  disdain  in  the  mental  attitude  of 

170 


JOHN  SARGENT'S  PORTRAITS 

Sargent  toward  Wertheimer,  which  is 
not  without  cruelty;  but  the  Spanish 
master  treated  his  unprepossessing  sitters 
with  a  chivalrous  kindness  and  humility 
which  are  touching  and  noble.  He  lent 
them  something  of  his  own  nobility.  He 
was  too  great  to  despise  anybody.  Surely 
there  were  mean  traits  in  some  of  his 
sitters;  but  he  chose  not  to  see  them 
meanly.  I  do  not  intend  by  this  com- 
parison to  imply  any  charge  against  the 
modern  master ;  it  is  purely  a  matter  of 
temperament. 

Sargent  looks  upon  things  as  they  are. 
The  result  of  this  point  of  view  is  a 
certain  crudity  of  statement  which  is 
often  indiscreet,  and  gives  the  impression 
of  harshness.  He  is  unable  to  assume 
a  sympathy  that  he  does  not  feel.  His 
treatment  of  his  male  sitters  often  grazes 

contempt.     He  has   no  love  for   mer- 
m 


JOHN  SARGENT'S  PORTRAITS 

chants  and  shopkeepers*  Even  senators 
and  statesmen  suffer  at  his  hands*  Let 
him  paint  gentle  ladies  and  children,  and 
he  rises  to  his  best  estate.  To  his 
simplicity  of  style  he  then  adds  a  charm- 
ing simplicity  of  sentiment,  as  witness 
the  Davis  and  Meyer  groups,  the  Boit 
children,  Beatrice  Goelet,  and  the  Hon. 
Laura  Lister.  These  pure  inspirations 
bring  out  all  that  is  tender,  genuine,  and 
lovable  in  his  nature.  Beauty  of  char- 
acter, the  invariable  touchstone,  in  life 
and  art  alike,  shines  out  from  these  clear, 
luminous,  and  stirring  pages  of  his  art. 


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